


The Dragon's Angel

by Miko



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Cybernetics, Doctor/Patient, Dream Sex, Ethics, F/M, Flirting, Happy Ending, Medical Trauma, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:57:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: When Dr. Angela Ziegler finds a severely injured young man, she is determined to do everything she can to save him despite the odds. To her surprise, Genji survives and is determined to regain as much of his life as possible. It's hard not to be impressed by his spirit, and Angela's feelings slowly slide into something not appropriate from a doctor to her patient. Try as she might, she can't stop herself from falling.Genji started out charming Angela because she was his best hope of ever walking again, but his guardian angel becomes so much more to him than that. Winning her is going to take patience and care, neither of which are his best qualities, but he's certain she'll be worth it in the end. Somehow, he'll convince her to love him,andhelp him recover from the wreck his brother made of him.





	1. Chapter 1

The rocky shore at the base of the cliffs in Hanamura was beautiful in its way, but desolate. Unlike the busy streets a hundred feet above, with their gorgeous cherry blossoms and intriguing mix of ancient and new buildings, the shoreline was empty of humanity, essentially unreachable from the town above.

That made it a perfect landing zone for Overwatch's dropships, coming in under the cover of night and running on stealth mode to avoid detection. Dr. Angela Ziegler, codename Mercy, was on the first ship to touch ground. Her comm crackled with brief static, before the pilot of the third dropship spoke. "Had to detour around an unexpected private jet. We'll be coming in on a new trajectory, ETA delayed six minutes."

"Acknowledged," Jack Morrison's deep voice replied. "Everyone else, stay on your toes and ready to go."

There was a further chorus of acknowledgements, Angela's included. Despite the command, however, she saw people around her relaxing. These were seasoned soldiers, they wouldn't let their guard down, but it was difficult to hold a highly alert state when there was no immediate need to do so.

Taking advantage of the downtime, Angela moved farther along the beach, away from the two ships on the ground. The soft light from the wings of her Valkyrie suit was enough for her to see where she was going, and not risk turning her ankle in an unexpected stumble over the rocks. Breathing deeply, she savoured the salty sea breeze, perfumed with the faintest hint of cherry blossoms from the trees far above. 

Soon enough the air would be saturated with the sharp scent of pulse emissions, caustic burn of gunpowder, and heavy iron tang of blood. The latter she was accustomed to through her career as a doctor and surgeon, but the first two were new and strange to her. This was only her third field mission. The quiet moment to clear her head before they began their assault on the Yakuza group who essentially owned Hanamura was welcome.

Angela _still_ wasn't certain how she felt about being the chief medic to this very military organization. Warfare went against her very purpose as a doctor. Yet she did believe that sometimes you had to fight to protect the vulnerable. And Overwatch had vastly extended the reach of her ability to help people across the world, not to mention was funding her cutting edge research.

A sound reached her, barely audible over the waves breaking over the rocky beach. Frowning, Angela cocked her head, wondering if she'd imagined it. Then it came again, a soft gurgling that sounded to her experienced ears like someone struggling to draw breath. 

Eyes wide, she hurried her steps along the shoreline, searching for the source. She didn't dare call out, not when she was in the midst of a stealth operation, but if there was someone hurt down here...

 _There_. A dark lump against the paler rocks, rocking gently each time the waves swept in and out. It seemed too small to be human, but she could see an outflung hand. A child? The hand was adult-sized.

Heart in her throat, Angela crossed the last few feet and crouched beside the injured man. As the faint light from her wings fell over him, it became immediately obvious why his shape was disproportioned - he was missing both legs at the thighs, and his right arm at the shoulder. 

Most of what was left of him was covered in horrific burns, with deep cuts sluggishly oozing blood in a way that suggested there wasn't nearly enough left in his body. Ironically, the burns had probably saved his life, cauterizing the severed limbs so he hadn’t bled out instantly.

Gasping, Angela fumbled the Caduceus Staff off her back and aimed it at the unknown man, flicking the healing beam on. It was likely far too late to save him, but she had to try. "Ana!" she called over the comms. "I need you west on the beach, bring the healing kit!"

The sniper was qualified as a field medic, and had given Angela a hand after battles before, or in dire circumstances. "What's going on?" Ana demanded. A moment later Angela heard running footsteps crunching over the pebbled beach in her direction.

"I'm not sure," Angela replied, her voice tight. "There's a man washed up on the beach missing most of his limbs, he's _horribly_ injured, but alive."

Ana dropped to her knees beside them, and muttered a word that Angela strongly suspected was a curse. " _How_ is he still alive? Mercy, we cannot possibly save him." Despite her protest, she ripped open the kit and pulled out the rubber straps meant to serve as tourniquets, and applied the first to his right shoulder. 

When she tightened the strap, he gurgled again in protest at the pain. His remaining hand twitched, flailing weakly, and Angela realized in shock that he was trying to bat Ana away from him. "Mein gott... he's _awake_?" 

Hastily she engaged the translator embedded in the Valkyrie suit's 'halo', not knowing if he might speak any language but Japanese. "Hold still," she commanded in her firmest tones, pushing gently against his hand to stop him from trying to move it again. "I'm a doctor, I'm trying to help you. There is no danger."

The noise he made was a terrible wet choking sound. After a horrified moment she realized he was trying to speak. Abandoning any attempt at stealth, she brushed her fingers over the switch that would turn the Valkyrie suit's power up to full, lighting up their section of the beach, so she could get a better look.

Impossibly, the man was even worse injured than she'd first realized. Blood leaked from beneath his eyelids, which were so deeply sunken she feared there might be nothing beneath them. His lower face was badly damaged, and his throat was _ravaged_ to the point that she had no idea how he was getting any air at all. 

This time Angela's curse mingled with Ana's, as they both scrambled to shift their focus. Angela tossed the Caduceus Staff to Ana, who continued to aim it at the man. Grabbing the field kit, Angela withdrew a sterile scalpel and tracheotomy tube. 

She hadn’t checked for potential spinal injuries yet, but if the man couldn’t breathe at all, he wasn’t going to last long enough to care about paralysis. Carefully tilting his head back, Angela used the scalpel to make an incision in the cricothyroid membrane of his throat, then eased the rigid tube through it into his windpipe.

Air whistled through it, and his chest began to rise and fall more steadily. A harsh rasp remained that suggested the lungs themselves were also damaged, but Angela could do nothing about that other than keep the Staff on him. Thankfully he seemed to pass out again, going limp.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Morrison demanded, surly over the comm. "This isn't a humanitarian relief operation, it's a strike and we need to get moving."

"I am not walking away and leaving a dying man to suffer," Angela replied sharply. "If you wish to go ahead without your primary healer, be my guest. I'll catch up when and if my patient is either stabilized or dead." Humanitarian operation or not, she was a doctor _first_. She'd made that clear to Morrison when she joined Overwatch, and no amount of growling would force her to go back on her oaths now.

"You might as well save your breath, Jack. This won’t take long," Ana said with dark humour. "Every beat of the man's heart is a miracle."

"You're giving our position away." Morrison's grumble came in stereo, over her comm and from a few feet to the left as he prowled down the beach to meet them. When he got a look at the injured man, he grunted in shock, and a sort of grudging admiration entered his voice. "You're right, he should be dead. Damn. Mercy..."

" _No_." She glared, daring him to try ordering her away. "I understand this isn't the purpose of our mission here. I know this strike is important. But I will not ignore the suffering of a man literally at my feet."

He gave her a very wry smile. "I was going to ask if you have any idea what could cause wounds like that. If somebody up there has _this_ kind of firepower, we need to rethink how this strike is going to work."

Grateful she wasn't going to have to keep arguing with him, Angela examined the injuries again. They seemed more horrific every time she looked, spotting new cuts and burns and broken bones. There was clearly grievous injury done to his internal organs, possibly to his spine as well. She needed the equipment she had back at the Watchpoint to be able to catalogue it all, but she had to admit he was unlikely to make it that far.

Unless and until he actually died, she would keep trying to save him even if she knew it was surely hopeless.

"The cuts look like they were done by a very sharp, single-edged blade," she listed, trying to sound as detached as possible. "Given our current location, I'd hazard a guess that a katana of some kind was involved. But these _burns_... I've never seen anything quite like them. An energy weapon, no doubt about that, but I have no idea what."

Morrison looked at Ana, who was applying compression bandages to the damaged limbs now that the tourniquets were in place. She answered without looking up from her work. "No idea either. You may have a point about it not being wise to charge into a battle that could involved a weapon this powerful. There's no chance he _didn't_ come from here, he can't have survived more than a few minutes, so he must have fallen from above and washed up immediately."

Angela looked up. The castle that crowned Hanamura was directly above, balconies jutting out over the cliffside. Lights flickered, and she could dimly make out the forms of people swarming one of those balconies. Nobody was peering down at the beach, not yet, but clearly _something_ had happened up there.

"We're pulling out," Morrison made the call. "Dropships bravo and charlie, back in the air. Head for the nearest Watchpoint. Alpha will follow you shortly." He cocked his head at Mercy. "Can you get him stable enough for transport? We can't stay here."

"Moving him could kill him, but not moving him will kill him just as fast." Angela sighed in acknowledgement of her own helplessness. Even with the best technology she'd been able to develop, she could never hope to defeat death entirely. "It's in God's hands now. I need a stretcher, he must be kept as still as possible."

"I'll get it." Turning, Morrison jogged back down the beach at his inhumanly fast pace. Angela was gratified that he'd not only conceded her right to treat the injured man, but was doing what he could to help.

It reaffirmed her decision to join Overwatch in the first place. Yes, they were a military force, and yes, she disagreed with some of their policies. But at their heart, they were an organization meant to _protect_ the world. So long as Jack Morrison didn't forget that, Angela would continue to serve. And she'd do what she could to remind him when he needed it.

Somehow they got the unknown man transferred to the stretcher without killing him in the process. Morrison carried one end while Ana held the other, Angela walking alongside with her Staff still aimed at the man’s throat. There was a spot in the dropship meant for the stretcher to lock in, securing it for transport. The moment they were all onboard, Morrison gave the command to lift, and Angela braced a hand on the wall to keep her feet as the ship swayed.

The Caduceus Staff technology _was_ making a difference. The ends of his ravaged limbs were still so much raw meat when she peeled the bandage back to check, but the bleeding had stopped, and Angela worked quickly to set up an IV to transfuse more blood and fluids into him. "Athena, can we get a facial ID, or is he too damaged?" 

"Scanning." There was a long pause as the AI processed the man's image through worldwide databanks. "Positive identification: Genji Shimada. "

Morrison made a disbelieving noise. "As in, the youngest son of the Shimada clan? The Yakuza family we were targetting tonight?"

"Correct, Commander."

"Definitely made the right call to pull out." Morrison stood over the stretcher, arms crossed as he stared down at the patient. "Must be some kind of internal strife happening, or inter-gang fighting. We could have walked right into the middle of a bloodbath. Mercy, if he _does_ survive, I want to be notified the instant he wakes. Athena, have MPs standing by at the Watchpoint to guard his room."

"Acknowledged."

"So he's a prisoner, now?" Angela frowned at Morrison. "I don't think he's likely to be _going_ anywhere, Jack."

He huffed, a sound of mingled laughter and acknowledgement. "No, I don't think he is. But his people may attempt a rescue - or whoever did this to him may try to finish the job, if they ever realized he lived."

Disturbed by the notion, Angela looked down at her patient. He seemed to still be unconscious, but he was restless in it, muscles twitching sporadically. Perhaps he dreamed he was still fighting, or perhaps it was merely nerves stressed far beyond tolerance firing at random. Reaching out, she threaded her fingers through what remained of his incongruously green hair.

Her touch did seem to calm him somewhat. The odds of his survival were horrifically low, even with the cutting edge medical technology she'd created through Overwatch. If he _did_ make it, he would be crippled for life, far too damaged for cybernetic implants to be a realistic option. They could most likely replace his eyes, if the optic nerves weren't too scarred, but his limbs would require at least three times more cybernetic nerve connections than the generally accepted maximum human tolerance limit. 

Stroking her hand through his hair again, Angela hoped that Genji Shimada had an uncommon amount of stubbornness and the will to live. He was going to need every bit of it, and then some.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Genji became aware of was a soft beeping, rhythmic but not regular, somewhere above his head. He drifted in blackness for a while, too numb and shocked for any thoughts to actually form, listening without understanding.

The second thing he became aware of was unrelenting agony. As his awareness of the pain shifted from subconscious to conscious, his brain began to wake further, drawing coherent thoughts to the surface.

This was far more pain than he’d ever felt in his life, despite the haze of what felt like some pretty powerful painkillers. Considering his training and the nature of what he did for a ‘living’, that was saying something. Worse, the sound beeping over him was now recognizable as a heart monitor. He must be in his family’s private doctor’s office.

What had happened to him? Genji’s mind drew an utter blank when he tried to remember. He couldn’t even recall any missions on the horizon that he might have been asked to take care of, especially as he’d been more and more resistant to doing his duty lately.

That thought awakened something deep inside him, a shuddering unease and disquiet, but he couldn’t force any reason to come to him.

He tried to open his eyes, and failed. When his brow creased in confusion, he felt fabric against his skin. Bandages, wrapped around his head - around most of his face, he discovered when he tried to speak and found his jaw clamped shut.

Alarmed, Genji tried to make any sound at all, to draw the doctor to him. The attempt drove red hot spikes of suffering down his throat, and all that emerged was a strangled gurgle.

It seemed to be enough, as hurried footsteps approached his bedside. High heels clicked on tile in a distinctive pattern, and a shiver worked its way down Genji’s spine. The Shimada-gumi were very traditional as a rule, and nobody in the inner circle would ever wear Western style heels. He was _not_ in his family’s infirmary.

“Stay still,” a soft, sweet voice commanded, a note of steel buried beneath the sugar. There was a slightly flat inflection to the words that he recognized as a _very_ advanced AI doing the translation in real time. “You’re gravely injured, but you’re stable for the moment and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Tensing, Genji tried to subtly flex his hands and feet, to find out if he was restrained. He felt his left fingers twitch… and nothing else. With a shocked gurgle he tried again, not bothering with subtlety this time, and though his left hand clenched in a fist, there was no other response.

“Are you always this defiant, or do you not understand the word ‘still’?” The woman asked. There was a note of amusement in her tone, and if Genji hadn’t been on such high alert, he might not have noticed the very severe strain well hidden beneath it. “You’ll break open the wounds again, and delay your healing further.”

A small, warm hand wrapped around his, coaxing his fingers out of the clench. Genji resisted for a moment, then subsided, knowing there was no point in fighting. Whoever had captured him, until he was well enough to try to battle his way free, he would have to bide his time.

“My name is Dr. Angela Ziegler,” the woman said, patting his hand one last time before drawing away. He heard a great deal more beeping above him, as she presumably used some sort of scanner or equipment. 

The humour had faded, and she was much more serious as she continued, “I don’t wish to alarm you, but as you’ve already discovered, when I say ‘gravely injured’ I am not exaggerating. Frankly, that you lived long enough to reach me was a miracle. That you lived long enough for me to get you back to my hospital was a second miracle. That you continue to live is yet a third, and if you attempt to push yourself, your luck may run out.”

There was a pause, allowing that to sink in. Genji thought furiously. The whole thing _could_ be a ruse, his seeming paralysis actually induced by her to render him helpless. It was a more sure way to ensure his docility than trying to find restraints or a cell that could hold him. Moreover, it might be a ploy to make him come to trust her, thinking she was saving his life.

Or he could actually have been near-fatally injured. He couldn’t _remember_.

“You’re at the Swiss Overwatch Headquarters,” Ziegler told him. “You washed up at my feet on a beach in Hanamura, Japan. I’m sorry to have taken you so far without your permission, but the equipment I needed to have any hope of saving you was here, and can’t be moved.”

The information drew a grunt of shock from him despite knowing the sound would make his throat stab at him again. _Overwatch_? In _Switzerland_? Why in the names of the thousand little gods would an Overwatch doctor have been on the beach in Hanamura?

Because they were attacking the Shimada-gumi. There was no other explanation. If she’d been on some kind of vacation, she wouldn’t have been at the base of the cliffs, a nearly unreachable and thoroughly inhospitable location. 

How did _he_ get to the beach? A wave of dizziness swept over him… no, it was a memory of falling, the vertigo as he tumbled head over heels through the air. The image flashed before his eyes and was gone again, lost to the blackness. 

Severe injuries could cause temporary or even permanent amnesia of the trauma leading to them, he knew that. But damn it, Genji _needed_ to remember what had happened.

He tapped his left hand against the bedsheets, a demand for more information in the only way he could make it right now. Thankfully she seemed to understand. 

“We don’t know what happened to you.” Her voice lost a good deal of its sweetness, turning grim. “I’ve never seen anything quite like your injuries. There were many cuts from a long, extremely sharp blade, but most of the damage is some kind of burn. From an energy weapon, I suspect, but one I’ve never seen before.

The chills running down his spine were back, but they were flowing glaciers this time. Another visceral memory hit him, of the fires of hell sweeping over him, a tsunami of blue energy that blasted through his body despite his frantic attempt to turn it aside with his smaller wave of green.

Genji knew exactly what had caused the injuries she described, and it was indeed an impossible miracle that he’d survived.

His brother had tried to kill him, using a method that should never have been employed against another Shimada. Hanzo had _turned his dragon on Genji_.

Hanzo had succeeded only because Genji hadn’t believed he would _truly_ do it, hadn’t summoned his own dragon until it was too late. All the other injuries Hanzo delivered with his blade, no matter how grievous, were as nothing compared to that single attack.

With a scream of outrage that sent knives slicing a bloody path through his throat, Genji thrashed in the bed, insensible with fury. His mind was filled unrelenting anger toward his brother, mixed with a healthy dose of hatred and a burning need for retribution and justice.

“Mr. Shimada, you must not… Genji!” Dr. Ziegler’s voice rose with each word, turning frantic. “Genji, please, stay still. You’re breaking open the… Verdammt.” 

There was a sharp pinch in his neck, and oblivion rushed up to meet him at an alarming rate. Genji struggled to stay awake, to not slip into unconsciousness again, but whatever she’d given him was incredibly powerful.

His last thought was one of utter fury toward his traitorous brother, and he knew it would be the only thing on his mind for a very long time to come.

* * *

The second time he woke, Genji knew immediately where he was. He tensed, trying to move his limbs once more, with the same result. Whatever was holding him immobile, be it chemical or physical restraint, was still in place.

So was his watcher, because the sharp heel clicks came a moment later. “Welcome back, Mr. Shimada. Are you going to stay calm this time, or do I need to keep you on permanent sedation until your wounds are fully healed?”

Forcing himself to relax his fist, Genji patted the blanket with his open palm, the only gesture of surrender he could make. The seething rage and hatred still boiled within him, as if his dragon churned around and around inside his torso, leaving a trail of fury in its wake. But he had control of his emotions, and knew that struggling would accomplish nothing but to harm him.

Patience had never been his best attribute, but Genji could bide his time when it was absolutely necessary. He would wait, and be an exemplary patient, doing everything he could to heal as quickly as possible.

Then he would return to Japan, and visit the same destruction upon Hanzo that his brother had done to him.

“Excellent,” she proclaimed, and patted his left shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a very long recovery for you. I know it must be frustrating not to be able to see or talk. With your permission, I’d like to begin the process of creating compatible cybernetic implants for your eyes and voicebox, to fix that for you as quickly as possible.”

Cybernetic? Genji’s breath caught in his throat. He’d assumed the damage would simply be healed - maybe leave him with a few impressive scars to show off. If she was talking about cybernetic replacements, then his eyes weren’t damaged, they were _destroyed_.

Despite their traditional ways, the Shimada family had always embraced technology and the advantages it could bring. However, technological alterations to the _body_ were another matter. Replacement limbs and organs were permitted when necessary, but the bearer was forever looked down upon after.

Incredibly hypocritical, when it was gene-splicing nanotech developed by Genji’s mother and first implemented in his father that had given the Shimada their most fearsome weapon, the dragons. Nobody had ever claimed that ninja or Yakuza were known for their sense of reasonable fairness.

If the options were cybernetics or to be blind and mute forever, Genji knew what his choice had to be. He nodded, teeth grinding.

“Then that will be our next priority.” She sounded relieved and pleased. “I’m sorry to inform you that I was forced to make several urgent medical decisions without your consent already, in order to save your life. If any of them turn out to be offensive to you, I deeply apologize.”

That had him tensing up further. What had she already done, that could be worse than replacing his eyes and voice?

“Most of your internal organs were damaged. Some I was able to heal, others I was forced to replace. To reduce the shock to your system as much as possible, I kept tissue wherever I could, even if it couldn’t be fully healed, such as your lungs. At the moment, you require highly oxygenated air to breathe, and we already had to reconstruct your windpipe.”

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Genji slid his left hand across his body, reaching for his right arm. Even the left didn’t want to obey him, muscles flexing against his will in spams he had no control over, but he managed to drag it up to his chest before she caught his hand in hers and held it still.

“You do not wish to do that,” she said. The words were gentle but firm. Now truly frightened, he squeezed her hand with his in silent demand. Sighing, she gave in. “You’re missing your right arm and both legs.”

The sound of shock and despair that escaped him made her squeeze his hand back. “Unfortunately, there’s a limit to how much cybernetic alteration the body can tolerate, particularly when nerve connections are required. With all the organ replacements I’ve had to do, you’re already dangerously close to that limit. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to improve your quality of life to the maximum, but I’m sorry to say that you will never walk again.”

Never walk again. Genji tried to make the words sink in, but his brain flatly refused to accept the reality. It was impossible. She had to have made a mistake. He could not, _would not_ be trapped in a useless body for the rest of whatever pitiful life he might have. 

There _had_ to be a way.


	3. Chapter 3

Angela quickly discovered that Genji Shimada was going to be simultaneously the best and worst patient she'd ever had. He faithfully obeyed orders given by her or the rest of the medical staff, whether it was to sleep or stay still or allow them to poke and prod him like a lab rat being dissected. But he constantly pushed every boundary while he did it.

"I'm tougher than you think," he said one day as she used the scanner to check on his healing and implanted organs. "I am used to pain, and working through it. I've trained my whole life to be stronger and faster than ordinary people."

"You're hardly the first exceptionally fit person I've worked on," Angela replied with some humour. "In fact, there aren't many people in the Overwatch field teams who _don't_ fit that description."

"It's not the same," he insisted. "I know you're cautious about introducing more cybernetics to my system, but I'm telling you, I can _handle_ it."

She actually did believe him, at least about being far above ordinary on the scale of human norms. The muscle tone in what remained of his body bore that out, as did the scars he'd already possessed. This was a man at the peak of human condition, accustomed to hard training and deadly fighting. From the briefing for the aborted mission, Angela was aware that the Shimada Yakuza family were rumoured to have roots in ninja traditions. She'd thought the rumours ridiculous, but Genji made her wonder.

Still, he had nothing on people like Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes, men who'd been enhanced _past_ the scale of human norms by experimental procedures. 

"You've recovered well from the voice box replacement," she allowed. He'd adjusted remarkably fast, in fact. They'd expected it would take weeks, perhaps months before he was able to speak easily again, but he'd managed his first full, coherent sentence in only five days. "The eye implants will be healed enough to remove the bandages soon. Beyond that, we'll take it one step at a time."

He made a noise of frustration, but didn't argue further. For the moment, at least. "Being able to see again will be good," he agreed. He gave her a smile that held a hint of flirtatious charm. "I look forward to finding out if you’re pretty as well as beautiful.”

Angela gave him a bemused smile, though he couldn’t see it. “Those words mean the same thing.” His English was decent enough that she no longer bothered with an AI translator, though his accent could be heavy, but he did make some errors.

“No,” Genji disagreed, shaking his head. “Beauty must come from within. Pretty is only skin deep. I already know you are beautiful.”

Heat swept Angela’s cheeks. Astonished at herself, she pressed one hand to her face, trying to cool the flushed skin. Blushing like a schoolgirl over a silly compliment from a patient. What was she thinking?

“You’re quite used to charming your way into - and out of - just about anything, aren’t you?” She tried to sound stern, as if the attempt wasn’t working on her, but the flustered amusement crept through.

She knew he’d heard it when his smile widened. Here in the pressurized, oxygenated air of his sealed room, he didn’t need to wear any apparatus to assist his breathing. Because they had to go slow with healing so _much_ damage, the scars marring his face were still raw and probably pulled painfully when he spoke, but he’d uttered not a word of complaint.

“Well, I _am_ known as the charming brother,” Genji chuckled. His laughter choked in his throat a moment later, and his left fist clenched in the sheets. A soft growl reached her, made eerie by the metallic overtones of his artificial voice. 

Reality was still sinking in for him. Angela suspected he wouldn’t truly be able to accept it until he was able to see the damage for himself. As it was, every time he was reminded, especially if the topic of his brother came up, he retreated into anger as a defence against the truth.

It wasn’t difficult to draw the conclusion that his brother was involved in the battle that had left him so injured. Angela wasn’t sure yet if his brother had fought against him, or had perhaps died by Genji’s side. He refused to speak of it, and so far she’d managed to stall Commander Morrison from coming to interrogate her patient. 

That wouldn’t last long, but she’d give Genji as much time as she could to recover and gather his composure before being subjected to the third degree from a potentially hostile opponent. If at all possible, she wanted Genji to have reached a stage where he was willing to speak about that night, before he was forced to do so whether he liked it or not.

“Clearly, your reputation is deserved,” she said, keeping her tone light, trying to draw him back out of the anger. Reaching out, she laid her fingers over his fist, offering comfort if he would take it. “But I’m afraid it won’t work on me. I’m quite used to naughty patients trying to charm their way back into my good graces.”

His fist remained clenched, but he didn’t pull away from her touch, either. Genji drew as deep a breath as his damaged lungs could handle, and managed a relatively casual tone when he replied. “When have I been naughty?”

“I suspect you’re sounding me out - or perhaps softening me up - in preparation for future disobedience,” she teased back. “You don’t strike me as someone willing to spend long periods idle in a hospital bed.”

“I would never disobey my guardian angel,” he assured her, and the corner of his lips quirked in a tiny smile again. Nothing like the broad, flirty one from before, but it was _something_. Perhaps something more genuine. Even better, he finally released his fist, turning his hand over to curl his fingers around hers.

“You say that, and yet you continue to argue with me about further implants,” she pointed out. 

“Arguing is not disobedience,” he countered. “I am merely trying to correct your misconception.”

“Genji…” Sighing, she squeezed his hand, and decided he was ready to hear the whole, unvarnished truth. She’d been sheltering him from it so far, speaking in broad terms until he could absorb the worst of the shock, but it was clearly the only way to convince him not to hold onto futile hope.

Perching on the edge of the bed, she turned her hand in his so they were clasped properly, trying to cushion the coming blow however slightly. “The human body is remarkably resilient. The brain even moreso, and science still hasn’t come close to plumbing its depths. What we do know, through painful and tragic experience, is that the body can only handle so much in the way of cybernetics before it begins to reject them. ”

He went very still, face turned toward her, hand clenched on hers. It was clear he was listening intently. “You said that before, that it’s why you left some damaged organs like my lungs.”

Angela nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes, that’s correct. You’re already at the limit of what’s considered ‘allowable’ tolerance, perhaps even over it. That was necessary simply to keep you alive. I pushed that limit to give you back sight and speech because you _are_ in such remarkable health aside from your injuries.”

“Yes, aside from those.” Genji’s tone was deeply bitter and resentful, but it wasn’t aimed at her. “If I can handle this much, why are you so certain I can’t do more? ‘Acceptable’ means it’s the limit almost anyone should be able to take, to prevent deaths.”

“With limbs, there’s the added complication of nerve connections. We have to wire the sensors directly into your spinal column. The technology isn’t perfect, and the more you want the limb to function like your real body, the more connections are required - and the more pain you will be in, _permanently_.” She squeezed his hand again. “No one has ever successfully replaced more than two limbs, and even the dual replacements usually request one be removed sooner or later. And that’s without the internal organs in the equation.”

For a long moment Genji was silent. Angela let him absorb it, though she winced as his grip tightened to the edge of pain. After a moment he seemed to realize what he was doing, and eased the pressure.

“I want my arm back.” His voice was flat and unforgiving, no longer coaxing or cajoling. “Give me that much, at least. We can argue about more after I prove the arm causes me no problems.”

“You’re not _listening_ to me,” Angela scolded him. “Your body is held in an incredibly delicate balance. If we try this and you _can’t_ handle it, then it might not be as simple as removing the arm again. You could go into full rejection shock, and that means your body will reject the organs, as well. _You will die_. Nothing I can do would keep you alive if that happens.”

“I’ll take the chance. Isn’t that my choice to make?” If he were capable of it, she was sure he’d be attempting to glare her into submission.

“Not if I believe the risk is too high,” she replied, equally firm. “I will not perform an operation that will almost certainly kill my patient unless there is _no_ other option to attempt to save that life. Missing your limbs is a terrible trauma, but in the end, it is an _inconvenience_ , not a threat to your life.”

“Angela.” His voice softened, desperation creeping in, and there was a quiver that suggested he was nowhere near as calm as he was trying to appear. “ _Please_. I _cannot_ be helpless.”

Angela’s stomach clenched as she heard the words he didn’t say, but his tone and body language said for him. What he meant was ‘I _will not_ be helpless’, and she feared he might take drastic measures if he believed that outcome was inevitable.

Until this moment he had fought to cling to life with all the fierceness of a dragon, clawing and biting his way through anything that threatened to rip that life away from him. Genji’s unbelievable strength of will was the main - perhaps the only - reason he’d made it this far. If he lost that will now…

She could put him on a suicide watch, but she had a sneaking suspicion he would quickly find a a way around it. He’d already flatly refused to speak to the base psychologist, the one order of Angela’s that he hadn’t followed. 

If he’d threatened suicide to attempt to coerce her into give him what he wanted, she would have been forced to refuse on principle. Giving in to emotional coercion would remove her from the position of authority and put him in charge. But this wasn’t a manipulative threat; it was a heartfelt admission, and a very real danger.

“I’ll think about it,” she conceded, hoping she wasn’t making a mistake. But if making the attempt was the only way to save his life, she would do it.

Genji had survived so incredibly much already. Angela couldn’t allow him to die of despair. Hopefully having both arms would make enough of a difference that he wouldn’t keep insisting on the legs as well.

Though from everything she’d seen of him so far, she wasn’t holding her breath. Genji didn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word ‘impossible’, or at least refused to acknowledge it. 

The true impossibility was to fail to admire his strength of will, courage, and spirit. Even among all the exceptional people she’d met here in Overwatch, Genji stood out. She very much wished she could have seen him at his best, before this horrible tragedy befell him.


	4. Chapter 4

Every hour, every minute, every _second_ that his eyes were useless grated on Genji’s nerves, wearing away at his temper until it was difficult to keep from snarling at the medical staff. He couldn’t afford to alienate the nurses, let alone Angela. Staying on her good side was his only hope of ever getting the use of his body back.

At least his training in blind-fighting meant he was able to track the movements of people around him, and often could tell what they were doing. Without that, his ingrained paranoia would surely have driven him mad long before they finally removed the bandages. Genji couldn’t imagine how an ordinary person would be able to handle the sensory deprivation.

Then again, he supposed they wouldn’t be constantly on guard against possible attack in the first place.

The day the bandages came off his implanted eyes, Genji all but vibrated with tension from the moment he woke. The _need_ to see clawed at him as though the dragon had become real, and attempted to rip its way free of his mind.

Angela’s hands were gentle as she unwrapped the dressing, her voice equally so as she spoke in measured, even tones. “Don’t be concerned if it’s difficult to see anything at first. Just as with your voice, your brain needs to relearn how to interpret the signals from the implants. We’ve also dimmed the lights very low, to ensure there’s no pain as you adjust from extended darkness.”

“I understand.” Genji fought the urge to reach up and rip the damn thing off himself. Was it his imagination, or was the darkness less unutterably black than it had been a moment ago? Was that a hint of grey, as the light began to seep in?

Yes. There was definitely light, increasing with each pass of her hand around his head. Now he understood why he was in layers of bandages instead of one solid cover; it was so she could do exactly this, letting his eyes become accustomed very gradually.

Even so, when the last layer fell away, Genji’s eyes watered in reaction to the light. It was dim, as she’d promised, but he could make out fuzzy objects all around him. He struggled to make the view come into focus, growling when it refused.

“Patience,” she reminded him, brushing her fingers over his temple beside his eye. The skin there had been covered so long, it was incredibly sensitive, and he found himself turning his head to nuzzle into the touch without intending to.

She obliged, cupping her hand around the side of his head, palm resting against his cheek. Angela always responded any time he reached out for contact, never denying him that basic human need. The nursing staff were willing to do the same, but Genji trusted her and her alone. Her voice and touch had kept him sane in the helpless darkness.

His guardian angel. She laughed when he called her that, or scolded him for flirting, but he meant it in the truest sense. Surely only an angel could have pulled off the miracle that saved his life. He owed her everything, and such a life debt could never be repaid.

The room continued to slowly brighten, and he realized the lights must be programmed to increase. Between that and his brain adjusting to the input, he was finally able to make out the pale blob of her face, then focus on individual features. Creamy, flawless skin; a strong, stubborn jaw; lips too wide to be a rosebud but clearly designed to smile; a button nose adorable enough to grace any J-pop idol.

And piercingly blue eyes, which was the first vivid colour he saw. Genji had interacted with many gaijin over the years, but he’d never seen such a deep, pure blue. She peered at him in concern, gaze flicking back and forth between his eyes, probably checking the movement of his pupils.

Reaching up with his good hand, Genji cupped her face in turn. The move startled her enough that she forgot to object, and he swept the pad of his thumb across her soft cheek. “So you’re pretty after all,” he murmured, smiling.

She could have been a wizened old hag and the sight of her would have been beautiful to him, for nothing more than the ability to see again at all. But hers was truly the face of an angel. Her parents had named her well.

“Flirt,” she accused him, and released him to gently remove his hand from her face. She kept her fingers wrapped around his, though, and he squeezed in silent gratitude.

“Isn’t that the tradition?” he teased back. “The pretty young woman nurses the handsome young man back to health, and falls in love in the process?”

Though he had a sick certainty that ‘handsome’ was likely a description that no longer applied to him. A few scars here and there wouldn’t have bothered him; nearly everyone in the Shimada-gumi had scars, it was a fact of life in the Yakuza world. But what he’d been able to feel of his remaining face and body went far beyond ‘a few scars’.

Yet there was not a hint of disgust in her eyes as she looked at him, nor a single shred of pity. Genji appreciated that more than he could ever hope to say.

“I’m afraid you’re doomed to disappointment,” she replied briskly, but now he could see the twinkle in her eye that matched the faint amusement she couldn’t quite hide in her voice. She enjoyed it when he flirted with her, which was why he’d taken to doing it as often as possible.

It had started as a way to win her over to his cause, to make her feel sympathy for him so she’d give him what he wanted - his body back, in whatever manner he could have it. It was also why he called her by given name rather than ‘doctor’, and asked her to do the same for him. Anything he could do to establish an emotional connection between them.

But as the days passed, Genji surprised himself with how real the flirtation had become. She was the only thing left in the world that could make him truly smile, and his traumatized heart had become attached.

His vision continued to improve, though everything was still fuzzy at the edges. That would clear up soon enough, and in fact his eyesight would be far better than 'normal'. She'd approved his request for implants that included enhanced low light vision; he suspected she intended it as a sop to the fact that she continued to refuse him his limbs. High-end cybernetic implants were so superior to organic vision that some people even chose to replace their eyes willingly.

Genji would never have made that choice, but since he was forced to have replacements, he could be grateful they were an improvement. Likewise his legs and arm, when he convinced Angela to give them to him, would be tireless and all but unbreakable. Hanzo would come to regret what he'd done, when Genji finally faced his brother down.

Right now, that was still far in the future, and he was happy to enjoy _all_ of his senses. Genji was a creature of darkness, living very much in the night hours, but he'd never been so glad to see the light of day. 

Or a pretty girl, for that matter. He was surprised to discover she seemed to be about his age, maybe a few years more. Given her extensive expertise, and the fact that the entire medical wing seemed to look to her as their authority, he'd assumed she would be much older.

Had he met her in a dance club, he'd have been instantly drawn to her exotic blonde beauty, probably spent the rest of the night pursuing her. Even here in Switzerland where her pale colouring was common, she was gorgeous enough that she surely turned heads wherever she went. Yet he'd heard no mention of a spouse or romantic partner, from her or from gossiping nurses. Indeed, as far as he could tell Angela rarely left the hospital wing. 

Until that moment, his flirting had been sincere, but not serious. Now he figuratively sat up and took real notice. For the first time in his life, Genji found himself genuinely interested in another person as something more than either a partner in crime or a potential play toy. Unlike the various flings he'd enjoyed over the years, Angela was anything but replaceable or someone he could grow tired of.

Especially because he sensed he would have to work very hard to win her. Angela might be the single most difficult prey he'd ever stalked, requiring far more persistence and careful handling than he was usually willing to put into a mission, let alone a potential girlfriend. Genji would have to be sneaky even by a ninja's standards, enticing her slowly and subtly until she could no longer consider turning him down, but he thought perhaps he'd finally found a woman worth that much effort.

Perhaps there _was_ still something other than his revenge on Hanzo that was worth living for. For the first time since he’d woken here, Genji felt something painfully close to hope.

Then he looked down, and the true scope of his battle became clear. A sort of icy shock gripped Genji's heart as he stared at what was left of his body. At the various machines hooked up to him, not only to monitor him as he'd thought, but to _keep him alive_. Feeding power to the cybernetic organs, supporting the ones that were still flesh but damaged. There were tubes and cables connected to him in half a dozen places. 

Not to mention the horrible flatness of the bottom half of the hospital bed, where the sheet should have been tented by his legs. The damage was much higher than he’d realized; he was lucky to have his hips and groin left. Worse still was the bandage wrapping his right shoulder, bound tight against his side when there should have been an arm in the way.

He'd _known_ , but he hadn't _understood_. It wasn't just a question of whether he could convince her to give him the limbs back. Even if she did eventually capitulate, he wasn't going to be able to stand up and walk out as soon as his legs were functional. 

Trembling, he lifted his hand to his face, feeling again the scars there, the cool metal of his replaced jaw and throat. "Bring me a mirror," he demanded, his voice harsh. He held his body rigid to stop the shaking, muscles clenched tight as he ruthlessly asserted control over himself. 

When she hesitated, he looked up to meet her worried gaze, trying to be as firm as he could. "Angela, please. Drawing it out isn't going to make it better."

Sighing, she picked up a large hand mirror from the bedside table and held it so he could see. Genji stared at his reflection, trying to find some trace of _himself_ in the ravaged image.

His eyes glowed, rather like the reflection from a cat's eyes, but with a dark red cast to the light. He hadn't realized they would do that - presumably it was an effect of the low light vision enhancement, because he'd met people with cybernetic eyes that looked almost normal. Having built in night vision _was_ worth the unearthly effect, but he wished he'd realized what he was getting when he asked for them. It made him look demonic.

So did the scarring, which was both worse and better than he'd feared it would be. There was less damage around the eyes than he'd expected, considering they'd been destroyed entirely, but the lower half of his face was a mess. There was no other word for it. Nobody was going to be calling him the 'charming' brother anymore, no matter how much he flirted.

Glancing down again, he saw what he'd missed the first time in his shock. Deep scars from Hanzo's blade cut into his remaining shoulder and arm. There were cables running from just below his elbow nearly to his wrist, presumably reconnecting nerve or muscle damage that would have lost him some or all use of the hand. Genji felt sick at the knowledge of how close he'd come to losing that limb, too. 

A horrible burn scar crossed his chest from his right neck to left armpit, and what covered the rest of his body wasn't mere bandaging, as he'd first assumed. It was some kind of flexible shell, fused into his flesh at the edge of the scar, like an artificial skin. The rest of the tubes and wires were connected to ports built into the shell. 

"How much of me is _left_?" Dazed, Genji lifted his head again to meet Angela's eyes. There was a flood of empathy and concern in her expression, and he couldn't even be angry that she was showing pity this time, because who could blame her? He _was_ pathetic. That there was still no trace of horror was a miracle, but he supposed she'd had plenty of time to become accustomed to how he looked. "How the fuck did I _survive_?"

"Sheer strength of will, as far as I can tell." She squeezed his hand again. "Genji, you _did_ survive. That's the important thing. You have a chance to rebuild your life. It won't be the same life you had before, but that doesn't mean it can't be just as full, just as meaningful. Please. Don't give in to despair."

Despair? No. The emotion Genji felt boiling within him was _rage_. If he'd thought he was angry with his brother before this, that was nothing compared to the fury that swept through him now. For Hanzo to have killed him would have been far, far more merciful. Genji was going to tear his revenge from his traitorous brother's body in kind.

And to do that, he was still going to need to charm the fuck out of Angela, to convince her to give him those limbs, and help him find a way to deal with the rest of the restrictions his devastated body put on him. 

So he drew a deep breath, centering himself as best he could through the anger he knew he would never let go of, and dredged up a shaky smile for her. "I won't give in," he promised, and meant every word. "I won't let it defeat me. But I need your help, to make it through."

"I'm here for you." Setting the mirror down, she lifted his hand and clasped both of hers around it. "Whatever you need. We'll get you through this."

"My guardian angel." He still meant the words, knew he could fall for her as he'd never fallen for anyone before. If there was any one thing that could lift him out of the darkness Hanzo had plunged him into, it was Angela.

But first, he had to be worthy of her. The wreck of a man he was now could offer her nothing worth having.


	5. Chapter 5

Two nights later, Genji snapped awake in the darkness of his room, listening intently for whatever sound had snagged his subconscious mind. He kept his breathing steady in the same rhythm as when he'd been sleeping, not giving away his awareness by so much as a twitch of his muscles. 

He gathered his _ki_ , centering his energy and focusing his mind in preparation to fend off an assault. If whoever had crept into his room thought he was completely helpless, they were about to learn differently.

It wasn't Angela, or one of the nurses. They were quiet as they entered and exited, hoping not to disturb his rest, but they didn't _creep_. This man's footsteps were deliberately soft, but still much heavier than any of the hospital personnel Genji had yet met. His boots sounded military, not medical. 

Too bad for the stranger that Genji had spent weeks with nothing but sound and airflow to guide him as to where people were, and he'd become far more expert at reading those tells than even a normal ninja.

The intruder stood at the foot of his bed, studying him. The man’s breathing was carefully synchronized with Genji's in an attempt to prevent him from hearing it. Yet he made no further move, no attempt to attack while Genji was supposedly unaware. 

Finally Genji lost patience and opened his eyes. "I know you're there," he growled. His hand tightened around the fork he'd stolen from one of the very first meals he'd been allowed to feed himself, carefully hidden between the mattress and the side of the bedframe. "Show yourself."

A deep chuckle reached him, and a moment later the tiny light at the foot of his bed snapped on. It was meant to allow nurses to read his chart without disturbing him too much, and barely illuminated anything, but it was enough for Genji's newly enhanced night-vision.

Enough for the man who'd slipped into his room, too. His eyes were fixed squarely on Genji - on his clenched hand, in fact, suggesting the stranger hadn't missed the fact that Genji had a weapon. He was large even for a gaijin, tall and broad-shouldered, with heavy muscles evident through the thick jacket of his uniform. With his blond good looks and military bearing, he could have been a living monument to a war hero.

In fact, Genji knew that there was indeed a monument to this man out there. Genji had spent a great deal of his many hours of downtime researching Overwatch, and since getting his vision back he'd been learning to identify the top ranking members. They didn't get any higher than this.

"Commander Morrison." Genji kept his voice level, pushing himself up against the pillows as much as he could. Lifting the bed would take too long, and make him look even weaker. "It's an honour."

"Mr. Shimada." Morrison nodded at him, a sort of wary respect in his eyes. "I see you live up to your family's reputation. I admit, I was in the middle of debating whether I should wake you."

He was talking about the rumours that the Shimada main family descended from a line of ninja. Normally Genji would deny it, be coy and dance around the subject. But as far as he was concerned, his family deserved no further protection from him. "You will find I live up to a great many stories, and exceed others. You've come to question me about my clan. I expected you some time ago."

Frankly, he'd expected the interrogation to happen the first day he was here, while he was still disoriented and vulnerable and wouldn't have sorted out his lies. Genji had been starting to think Overwatch had concluded they couldn't trust a word he said, and so it wasn't worth questioning him.

"Clearly, you've not yet had Angela Ziegler _mad_ at you," Morrison replied, his tone very dry. "The woman protects her patients more fiercely than any mama bear with her cubs. And since my life is almost certainly going to depend on her goodwill toward me at some point, I try to stay on her good side."

Despite himself, the corner of Genji's lips pulled up in a crooked smile. Yes, he had already encountered some of Angela's fierce nature, and he could well imagine her fury if she was truly angered. He had no intention of ever seeing it directed his way, if he could avoid it. "That explains why you're slipping in like a thief in the night, I suppose. Hoping to avoid her ire? Or just to catch me off guard?"

"Little of both," Morrison admitted, unashamed. Genji appreciated his honesty.

"There was no need for the latter." Genji's smile grew, dark and nearly feral. "I will tell you anything you wish about the Shimada-gumi. Numbers, firepower, supply lines, holdings; everything I know. You've no reason to trust me, but I swear to you on my honour and on the grave of my mother, I will cooperate fully."

Morrison studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "This was internal," he guessed shrewdly. "Your own people did this to you, and you want revenge."

"My brother." Genji barely held in the snarl that wanted to tear free of him. He'd been planning his approach to this conversation for some time, and to get everything he wanted out of it, he needed to convince Overwatch that he was stable and reliable. Someone they could trust. "I had refused to take my rightful place in the clan. I love being a ninja, and I am good at it. But I have never been interested in being a thug, and that is all the Yakuza are anymore."

"Interesting." Morrison crossed his arms, looking down at Genji. His expression was thoughtful, not dismissive, and that was a very good sign. "Let's start by telling me what the hell did this to you."

"You won't believe me," Genji warned him. Morrison just raised an eyebrow, and Genji shrugged. "My brother turned his dragon on me."

"His dragon." Morrison did a credible job of keeping the disbelief out of his voice and expression, but the very flatness of his words betrayed him.

"I told you that you wouldn't believe me." Genji shook his head. "It's an energy weapon, keyed to my family's bloodline, built into our blades. It cannot be used by anyone else. Beyond that, I can't really give you the details - not because I'm unwilling, but because I don't know the technical intricacies of how it works. The creation technique is so jealously guarded by our family's smiths, even I am not privy to it."

That was mostly bullshit, but some secrets Genji would keep to protect _himself_ , not his family. He didn't want people hunting him down, thinking they could create a dragon of their own if they could study him. Pretending it was their blades that created the dragons rather than personal enhancements was one family tradition he agreed with; it meant people tried to steal their swords instead of kidnapping them. Their smiths had developed very showy-looking swords with glowing edges to help back up the story.

The only part that was truly important to Overwatch was the rarity of the weapon, and he hadn't lied about that. "If you're planning a raid against my clan, unless my brother gets involved, you will not have to fear this happening to your people," he assured Morrison.

That earned him an unimpressed grunt. "And if he does get involved?"

"Then I suggest you focus your fire entirely on him to shut him down before he can engage the dragons," Genji replied. "Or else retreat at top speed, and spread out as wide as possible as you do so, in the hopes of saving as many as you can. But so long as you stay away from the castle itself, he's unlikely to step in personally."

"Fair enough."

Genji wasn't quite sure if Morrison believed him or not, but at least he wasn't outright denying Genji's words. Hoping that was a good sign, Genji pressed on. "I could be of use to you in other ways, if I were mobile. My skills are unique, and very useful."

"You trying to get me to recruit you?" Morrison looked him up and down, as if evaluating his fitness for duty. They both knew Genji was painfully unable at the moment. "Or are you trying to go over Mercy's head to get your limbs back, and then you'll cut out on us?"

"I may be a ninja and a Yakuza, but I am not without honour." Genji stared at him, willing Morrison to see his sincerity. He sensed honesty was very much the way to go with this man. "If I promise to fight for you, then I will give my life in that pursuit, if called for. Yes, this is an attempt to convince you to pressure Angela into allowing further cybernetization. That does not mean it's an insincere offer."

Morrison tapped his index finger against his arm, considering. "You say that, but I need my agents focused on their jobs, not on personal revenge."

Looking away, unable to meet Morrison's eyes from shame, Genji forced himself to admit the painful truth. "Hanzo didn't just defeat me. He _destroyed_ me." He gestured bitterly at what little was left of him. "Even my own dragon was not enough to protect me. If Angela could wave a magic wand and restore my body completely, it would still require many years of intense training before I dared to face Hanzo again. There's no reason serving in Overwatch couldn't be part of that training, and every reason to believe what I learn from the experience would benefit me. So you see, we would both win."

"I'm sure we could find a place for your skills," Morrison conceded. There was a tilt to his lips that suggested he was fighting off a smirk, as if he was picturing Genji on their side and enjoying the image. "I'm sure it will be no surprise to you that we have a black ops division. Blackwatch."

"You keep it well hidden." There had been rumours that cropped up in his research, but very few, and they were widely discounted by the world. Genji hadn't been completely certain until that moment whether or not they were true. 

In a way, it was reassuring to him that Overwatch had a darker side it hid from the world. Genji was not a person who could live in the light, and he was not suited to being a true hero. But he would make an excellent anti-hero. 

Arguably, that was exactly the purpose the Shimada-gumi had originally served. Fighting in the shadows, protecting the country in ways the samurai with their precious bushido could never do. They'd lost their path somewhere through the years, become greedy and traded honour for profit, service for power.

"Reyes would all but drool at the idea of having a real live ninja under his command," Morrison said, his smirk widening. "Even if I assume most of the stories are bullshit, you'd be the perfect fit for his personal team. He's been searching for a good recon and flanking specialist. Unfortunately, I can't override Mercy when it comes to the welfare of her patients. The best I can do is help you try to convince her, but she’s stubborn."

Frustrated, but not entirely surprised, Genji nodded. "I meant what I said, about the information," he said. "That was not contingent on you taking me on. I do not believe you will be able to destroy the Shimada-gumi, or even damage them as much as you might hope. But if there is any assistance I can give in hurting them, I will do so with a glad heart."

"Then I'll be back tomorrow for a thorough debriefing." Morrison gave him a nod, almost an abbreviated bow. "I'll be rooting for you with Angela... but I'm still not going to risk pissing her off."

The wry words won a small chuckle out of Genji. "I would not ask you to incur her wrath," he mock-promised. Though he hadn't gotten everything he wanted, Genji wasn't dissatisfied with the way the conversation had gone. Even if Morrison couldn't force Angela to give in to Genji's demands, he had to believe that it could only help him to have the head of Overwatch on his side.


	6. Chapter 6

Pausing in the doorway of the physical therapy room, Angela watched as one of the trainers worked Genji through some simple exercises. They were designed to help his brain learn how to interpret the input from the cybernetic hand's sensors, and to output movement directions to its 'muscles'. Currently, he was attempting to write his name with an oversized pen, brow knit into a scowl as he stared at his hand, willing it to move.

The image would make a beautiful painting, if an artist could hope to capture it properly. Perhaps titled 'Overcoming', or something similar. His focus was incredible, as he applied himself 150% to whatever task he was given. 

He certainly had the face and body to inspire an artist. Even after weeks of enforced bedrest the muscle tone on what remained of his functional body was impressive. His features were handsome, bordering on pretty if not for his wild eyebrows. In Angela's eyes, the scars and visible cybernetics only gave him further character and strength.

Genji continued to blow right through every expectation and goal they tried to set for him. Angela strongly suspected he'd finally started disobeying and was doing extra exercises in secret, and never mind that both she and his trainers kept reminding him that if he pushed too fast, he'd set himself _back_. She couldn't even scold him properly, because there actually was no sign that he _was_ pushing too hard.

As it turned out, Genji had been right about his ability to handle the additional cybernetics of his arm. His body had adjusted well to the burden, and he'd uttered not a word of complaint about the pain the nerve connections _must_ be causing him. 

It terrified Angela to think about that too hard. Never mind the recent massive injury; what had the _rest_ of his life been like, if this seemed to him like a manageable amount of pain and effort? Any other patient would be whining and begging off by now, moaning and complaining about how difficult it was. Yet Genji took it in stride and never wavered.

She was starting to believe he really might be able to handle the legs, too. Not that she would tell him that, not yet. Not until he'd fully acclimated to the arm, just in case something went wrong and that turned out to be his limit after all. She couldn't bear to get his hopes up, only to dash them once more.

Making him happy was becoming more and more important to her. The sight of his teasing smile could lift her spirits no matter how badly her day had gone, and she'd taken to seeking him out at odd moments like this, when she had a break or after her shift was done. 

The nursing staff told her that while he was as friendly as could be expected from someone in constant pain, Angela was the only one he ever smiled for, so she seemed to have the same effect on him. He certainly enjoyed flirting with her. And that was very dangerous 

A patient becoming emotionally attached to the doctor who'd saved their life wasn't uncommon, and in fact this wasn't the first time she'd dealt with it. The trick was to be firm and maintain an appropriate distance, make it clear there could be nothing but a professional relationship between them, and gently discourage any and all advances.

The problem was that _her_ heart ached at the thought of never seeing that beautiful smile aimed at her again.

The sound of a low, frustrated growl reached her as his hand jerked across the page, the uncontrolled movement ruining what had nearly been his first legible word. "Che!"

"Take it slow," the trainer encouraged him. "You don't have to do everything all at once."

"If I go any slower, I might as well not have bothered getting the damn arm," Genji muttered. His tone was sour, and he grunted in annoyance when he dropped the pen entirely, fingers spasming. "K'so!"

Angela didn't need to engage her translator to know that the second Japanese word he'd said was a much worse curse. His expression said it all. 

"I don't know what you're complaining about," she teased as she moved toward him, hoping to lighten his mood. "You're already a week ahead of where you should be in your recovery. Again."

Sure enough he smiled up at her, frustration draining away in his happiness to see her. The mask he was forced to wear outside his room to keep highly oxygenated air in his lungs hid his lower face, but she'd learned to read his expressive eyes. "Angela. Did you come by to make sure I was behaving?"

"As if anything I say has ever had an impact on your behaviour." She couldn't quite manage to keep her scolding tone. No matter how she tried, affection leaked through. He was exasperating, but exceptional in all ways. 

Genji obviously heard the affection, because he chuckled softly. "You have all kinds of impact on my behaviour," he assured her with patently false solemnity. "I keep telling you, I'll never disobey my guardian angel."

"No, you'll just argue me into submission," Angela sighed, rolling her eyes. "Or better yet, bypass me entirely."

"Are you _still_ mad at me for getting Commander Morrison on my side about the limbs?" Laughter shone in his eyes. 

"Genji, I will be angry with you for going over my head until... until Hell freezes over." She'd nearly said 'until you die', but that felt too morbid, almost like a curse. 

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep trying harder to charm you into forgiving me." He inclined his head in an abbreviated bow.

"You can try." Undoubtedly, he would succeed eventually, but she wasn't going to hand him ammunition by telling him so. He was already _far_ too good at charming her.

As proved by the fact that she was here, lingering after her shift was over so she could drop in on his PT session. She had no professional purpose here, no use. This was not her area of expertise, and she left it to those who _were_ experts. The only thing she accomplished by coming was to be his support and cheerleader. That was the role of friends and family, not a doctor.

Truly, it wasn't him that she needed to scold into good behaviour. It was herself. If she wasn't careful, she might drift across the line into impropriety. 

"I'll leave you to it," she said, forcing herself away. Even then, even having reminded herself why she shouldn't, she couldn't resist reaching out to pat him on the left shoulder. Not for encouragement to him, but simply because her fingers liked to touch the curve of muscle there. 

To her surprise, he reached up and placed his left hand over hers, fingers stroking the soft skin on the back. Rough callus scraped over her delicate flesh, his hand that of a man used to hard physical labour. Or prolonged weapons training, which was the far more likely option. 

Despite herself, Angela shivered at the touch, and felt something stir within her. _Deep_ within her, heat curling in her belly and making her legs feel weak. Ridiculous. The back of the hand was _not_ an erogenous zone. It was a perfectly innocent touch; she just needed to stop imagining what it might feel like in _other_ sensitive places.

Though the sly gleam in his eyes suggested he was very much doing it on purpose, and knew exactly the effect it had on her.

The therapist cleared his throat. Angela jerked her hand out from under Genji's as if she'd been burned. It certainly felt like someone had turned the heat up to 'roasting', if the flush in her cheeks was anything to go by. "So much for behaving yourself," she scolded, scrambling to regain her dignity.

"But you're so much fun to tease," Genji replied without a trace of repentance. "Stop being flustered so easily, if you want me to lose interest in pulling your ponytail."

Comments like that one were why she wasn't _certain_ that he really was making genuine advances on her, and why Angela hadn't yet put a stop to it. If this was simply his personality, a tease and a flirt, then slapping him down for it could potentially set back his recovery and acceptance of his new life. The fact that he only did it with her, not the nurses, might be due to nothing more than his greater trust in her, and therefore his willingness to show vulnerability.

"I bet you _were_ the kind of rotten little boy who yanked the hair of the girl he liked, to get her attention," Angela replied, trying for stern. "I know your type." 

"Absolutely," Genji agreed, cocking his head. "I snuck frogs into more than one bento box, too."

That startled a laugh out of her. He was good at that, cajoling her out of _her_ slumps and bad moods. He seemed to have a sixth sense for when she was in one, no matter how she tried to hide it and put on a good face in front of him.

The therapist was grinning at them both as he packed up his kit. "I think we're done for the day," he said. "Mr. Shimada, despite what I know _you_ believe, you've actually made very good progress, Dr. Ziegler is right about that. Shall I take you back to your room for dinner?"

"I can take myself," Genji replied, stubborn to the core. He'd flatly refused a powered wheelchair, insisting on the old-fashioned kind you had to push yourself. At least now that he had both arms he _was_ able to get around, though he had to go slow thanks to the lack of coordination in his right arm. His chair was still much bulkier and heavier than normal, since he required a power source and various other forms of assistance for his organs and arm, but he seemed to take that as a challenge.

Since it was keeping his upper body in condition and also a reason for him to continue improving, Angela had allowed it, though for any other patient she'd probably have insisted on the powered chair to ensure he didn't wear himself out.

Knowing Genji, he'd have pushed the motored chair himself anyway.

"Join me?" Genji invited, tipping his head back to meet her eyes properly. "Have you eaten yet?"

Angela knew she should say 'no'. Sharing dinner wasn't the sort of thing a doctor should do with a patient. But she also knew he was lonely, and though he was friendly with all the staff, she was the only one he was close to. Besides, she _was_ starving, had been on her way to the mess hall when she'd made the detour here. "I suppose I can spare a little time, since you asked nicely instead of pulling my ponytail."

That made him chuckle again, which she counted as a victory. With a look of intense concentration, he wheeled himself back from the table, turned the chair, and headed for the door. His path was somewhat wobbly, not quite able to match the strength of the pushes between his flesh and cybernetic arms, but it was a more or less straight line.

"You’re getting good at that," she observed, walking along beside him. "Soon you'll be doing races with the other chair-bound patients." There were a few, though most were only temporarily out of commission, unlike Genji.

"I don't enter races I don't know I can win," Genji replied. "And I'm hoping by the time I could be certain of winning, I'll be getting used to walking again, instead." He glanced up and raised a brow at her, daring her to contradict him.

Not wanting to get into another argument with him about it, Angela redirected. "How are your pain levels? Be truthful. If I think you're lying, I'll assume it's because the agony is all but unbearable, and you'll never get the legs."

The subtle confirmation that she _was_ willing to consider the additional limbs made him light up. "It's... noticeable," he admitted. "Not like anything I've experienced before. Constant and grinding. But it’s no worse than the ache after a hard training session, just different."

"It's not going to get better," she warned him. "It won't get _worse_ unless we add more limbs, but it's not something that will improve with time."

"I know." And his tone made it clear that he didn't care. 

Sighing, Angela admitted defeat. "When you are able to write me a clear, neat, full page letter with multiple paragraphs, _if_ you are still certain you can handle it, and _if_ all your tests results are encouraging, I will _consider_ the possibility of adding your legs."

He froze, staring up at her as if she'd started spouting an alien language. When it became clear she was serious, not teasing him, he whooped and pumped his left fist in the air. "Yesss!" 

Then he paused, and his shoulders slumped in an exaggerated fashion, though his eyes remained cheerful. "Wait, that's not fair. Who told you I failed all my calligraphy classes? My handwriting has always been terrible."

Angela laughed, and ruffled his hair. "Legible enough for me to read it," she amended. Her hand lingered in the thick strands of his spiky hair, now raven black with the green dye long since washed out, the singed areas regrown. It felt like heavy, raw silk against her fingers, coarse but soft at the same time. She itched to stroke it, and for that exact reason, she forced herself to pull her hand back.

Only to realize that he'd tipped his head into the contact, eyes half closed like a content cat. He made a tiny, stifled sound when she withdrew - disappointment? Biting her lip, Angela quickly took the last few steps ahead of him to pull open the heavy door to his room, holding it so he could wheel through. It was a good excuse to get away and not have to look at his expression until she'd composed her own.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the room pressurized. The high oxygen percentage in the air always made her lightheaded, but it meant he could safely remove his mask and relax. He did exactly that, rubbing at the bridge of his nose where a red line from the edge of the mask crossed the scars. "Why can't I do my exercises in here?"

"Because it's not healthy for you to spend all your time in only one room if you don't absolutely have to. When the weather is nice, there's even a patio that opens off the physical therapy room, and an enclosed garden the patients can use."

"To drive it home that I can no longer smell the flowers?" The words were bitter, and she saw a muscle jump in his jaw as he ground his teeth. He did his best to cover it by looking away as he swung himself from the chair to the bed, muscles in his left arm flexing with the effort. "Sorry. I know, I need to accept my limitations now."

"Genji, you would not be human if you didn't feel regret at losses like that," she said, as gently as she could. There was a razor's edge to walk between accepting reality and bottling up perfectly reasonable feelings. Refusing to acknowledge emotions was another form of denial.

"Am I?" He paused in shifting his connections from the chair’s equipment to the bed’s. When he looked up at her, his expression was bleaker than she'd ever seen him. "Still human? How much of me is left?"

"The only part that matters," she replied sternly, tapping him on the temple. This was a path she did _not_ want him going down, but which would be far too tempting for him to take. "You are entirely human as far as I'm concerned."

"You almost make me feel like I still am." Once again he caught her hand in his, but this time he brushed his lips against the back of her fingers. "That's my angel, guarding my soul as well as my life."

"Genji." Her fingers tightened on his, but she didn't pull away. She told herself it was because she didn't want to crush him when he was _finally_ being honest about his feelings, but the simple truth was that she didn't _want_ to.

"I know." With a rueful smile he released her. "I'm misbehaving again, and I'm sorry. But I mean it. You give me hope."

"Then I've done my job." She put extra stress on the last word, reminding herself more than him that it _was_ only about her job.

Except that it wasn't. It really, really wasn't, and hadn't been in some time. He was becoming so much more than a patient, and that meant she was being a very bad doctor.

How on earth was she supposed to resist?


	7. Chapter 7

The autumn leaves made bold patterns against the blue water in the fountain bowl. Once upon a time, Japanese nobles would throw parties and spend all night composing poetry about such images, to impress each other with their wit and artistry. It was the perfect subject matter for a sumi-e inkwash painting.

Genji had never really appreciated haiku or traditional art, but he'd discovered that doing sumi-e was a good exercise for fine motor control in his right hand and arm. His efforts were still rough, but already noticeably better than when he'd started. 

Whether that was because his control had improved, or because he'd finally moved past the stick figure level of artistic ability, was up for debate.

Even deep in concentration, he heard the soft footsteps coming up the path behind him. One set was Angela's, and if she were alone, he might have kept going, trusting her enough to relax his guard. But there were others with her, so Genji immediately set the brush down on the lap desk and wheeled his chair around to see who it was.

Jack Morrison led the group, uniform jacket flaring out behind him as he strode along the garden path like he was on a mission. Genji had come to know and respect the man through their frequent 'debriefing' meetings. Even after he'd told Morrison everything he could about the Shimada - and other criminal organizations in Asia - the commander still dropped by once in a while to check on him. Genji got the sense the man actually did care.

There was a newcomer with them, a man who might have been described as 'diminutive' if he weren't nearly as round as he was tall. His beard was truly impressive. Genji wasn't sure if he was deliberately cultivating the look of a Tolkien dwarf, or if it was a coincidence, but the resemblance was marked.

"Genji," Angela greeted him. Her smile was as warm as ever, but there was a nervous tension in her body that put Genji on wary alert. "This is Torbjorn. He's a member of my field team, and our resident weapons and armour expert. He's also a very good friend."

"Torbjorn _Lindholm_?" Genji's eyebrows rose, and he stared at the man in surprise. Surely there couldn't be more than one weapons design expert with such an unusual name.

Clearly pleased to be recognized, Torbjorn stroked his beard. "Always nice to meet a fan. So you're the boy that won't take 'no' for an answer, hmm? D'you have any idea how much trouble you've caused our poor Angie?"

"Trouble?" Genji cut a sharp look Angela's way, and she flushed. "That was certainly never my intention."

"Don't listen to Torb," Angela said. Genji noted the affectionate nicknames each used for the other with a touch of jealousy. "I'm unsure if he's capable of _not_ indulging in hyperbole."

"Bite your tongue." Torbjorn shook a finger at her, then turned the same wagging digit on Genji. "Listen here, boy. Angela's not been denying you those legs you want so badly out of spite, you know. She's spent months fretting over it, trying to find a way to give you what you want without killing you."

Disgruntled by the scolding, Genji looked at Angela. "You brought your friends to help chide me for pushing too hard? Really?"

"Nope." Morrison had merely been watching with an amused expression up to this point, but now he spoke up. "She brought us because the issue isn't as simple as the potential medical complications. There are a great many factors that have to be taken into account."

"Even I hadn't truly considered all the additional problems involved in such a complete cybernetic system," Angela admitted. She perched on the edge of the fountain, putting her at eye level with Genji and Torbjorn.

"Cybernetic, nothing," Torbjorn replied, his tone caustic. "Call it what it is. We're talking about a full on cyborg body, here. More machine than man, and machines are _my_ specialty."

Genji's breath caught in his throat. If his heart had still been flesh, it would have been pounding with nerves and excitement. If Angela was going to the trouble of bringing in another expert, this wasn't just a _possibility_ , she was actually considering _approving_ it. Though 'more machine than man' sounded like an abomination to him, it was also exactly what Genji had been hoping for.

He turned his gaze to Morrison, who was leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. Genji raised an eyebrow at him. "That explains why Lindholm is here. What about you, Commander?"

"Even the initial estimates that Angela and Torbjorn have come up with are wildly expensive," Morrison replied. "And I've no delusions that the estimates are anywhere near accurate. We do have significant funding allocated to Angela for medical research and scientific advancement. But unless you want to eat up a large chunk of her budget for the year, maybe even all of it, then I need to be involved in this discussion so I can bring the proposal to the U.N. for approval of extra funding."

It would cost _that much_ of her budget? Of course Genji knew cybernetics were ungodly expensive, but he was unused to really thinking about money beyond 'how much do I have on me at this moment'. As the scion of a wealthy Yakuza family, Genji had never needed to worry about funds. 

For the first time, it occurred to him that despite his disdain of how his family earned their money, Genji had never hesitated to _spend_ those ill-gotten gains. And how much had he already cost Overwatch, cost _Angela_ , in her efforts to save him so far? Only to have him constantly pushing for more like the ungrateful brat Hanzo had called him.

Shamed by his thoughtlessness and hypocrisy, Genji nodded. "I assume you're talking about my offer to use my skills to Overwatch's benefit."

"Selling the idea of an incredibly powerful cyborg stealth agent will be a lot easier than convincing the budget committee to shell out for humanitarian relief." Morrison's tone was very dry. "Go figure."

Angela sniffed in disdain. Genji understood her feelings about the matter, since humanitarian relief was her entire purpose in life, but he also understood the Commander's logic. Overwatch was a military force. Of course those who oversaw it would be faster to buy a weapon than give charity. "As I've told you before, I am more than willing to join you. It can only benefit me in the long run."

"At least to start with, you'd be working for room and board, and a minimal stipend for necessary expenses, with the rest of your pay applied against the cost of the body," Morrison warned him. "Not for the whole amount, or probably even a big chunk, but it'll be some significant fraction."

"I have little use for money." Genji’s smile was wry, though he doubted the man would be able to read it with only his eyes visible above his breathing mask. Angela saw it, and gave him a sad smile in return. 

Really, what could he possibly spend money on? He couldn't drink much anymore, certainly not alcohol, getting most of his fluids through IVs and various tubes. Likewise he did eat some solid food, but with so little actual flesh left he didn't require much nutrition. Presumably if he was being active every day that need would increase somewhat, but most of him ran on electricity, not calories.

Almost all of his past hobbies and pleasures were now denied to him, in fact. Drinking, partying, casual sex... none of those were things he'd be doing ever again. Video games, at least, were another good way for him to practice his fine motor control, but they'd become an exercise, frustrating rather than fun. He definitely wasn't going to be getting high scores any time soon.

Torbjorn rubbed his hands together, looking positively gleeful. "Now, if we're going to sell you as a weapon, we need to build you a _weapon_. I've already worked up some initial plans..."

"I have a few ideas of my own," Genji interjected. "I've had a lot of time to think about it. Like a kunai or shuriken delivery system to put the blade straight into my hand, instead of having to pull them out of a sheath." With the ink brush, he sketched a quick example of both weapons as he spoke.

Torbjorn didn't glance at the drawings. "Shuriken would be best. Can fit lots of 'em into a forearm compartment, flip 'em either up through your palm and between your fingers, or through the back of your hand and over the knuckles. I'm assuming you're gonna want to talk about a katana, if blades are your thing?"

Weapons expert, indeed. He'd even said the names in a reasonable approximation of the actual pronunciations. Genji's smile turned to a grin that nearly matched Torbjorn's. After so much effort trying to convince Angela to approve giving him legs at all, this was going to exceed his wildest dreams. 

The sword, though... Genji flicked his gaze to Morrison, remembering the lies he'd told. The Commander raised an eyebrow back at him, daring him to insist he needed a weapon forged by his family. Judging by that look, Morrison hadn't bought it the first time, and certainly wouldn't buy it now.

Sighing, Genji gave in. "We'll need to talk in detail about the blade. It requires certain properties to best channel my genetech energy weapon - and I want it to look like the energy is coming from the blade."

Angela's eyes went very wide, then narrowed at him in a piercing look. "I'm sorry," she said in an overly sweet voice. "I must have misheard. You certainly did not say that you have genetic enhancements about which you _never told your doctor_."

Genji winced, and used his best placating tone. "It's not something that would interact with or affect the cybernetics, or my health."

"And you know this because you are yourself a doctor?" Angela's tone grew sharper, and she planted her hands on her hips as she stared him down. "Perhaps you have a PhD in genetech?"

"My mother did, and she's the one who created the dragons," Genji replied. "She always said..."

"Genji!" Angela interrupted, her stare deepening to an outright glare. "The cybernetics you already have are _cutting edge_ , and are augmented by my biotic nanotech! I've warned you a hundred times how close we were already pushing the limits of your tolerance, and that was without considering any potential interactions with pre-existing enhancements. I want every bit of information you have on this genetech, and I'm not approving _anything_ further until I fully understand the potential dangers."

Shit, he really hoped he hadn't just destroyed any chance of getting that body approved. Now that he'd come so close to achieving his goal, Genji couldn't stand the thought of being denied again.

"Her research files are stored on secure servers in Shimada Castle, with no outside network connections," he replied, shoulders slumping. "There's no way to access them, no matter how good your hackers might be. It would take a full on assault against the entire clan to get that data. I'll tell you everything I do know, and you're welcome to study my DNA... but _please_ don't let it ever get out that you've done so, or what the results were. You've seen what Hanzo's dragon did to me. Imagine what people would do to get their hands on a weapon that powerful. There's a reason we lie and say it's built into the swords."

Her mouth was a thin, tight line, but she gave him a jerky nod. "I understand the danger. Nobody else will touch the data, and I will keep it secure. Honestly, Genji. I'm disappointed in you. I thought you trusted me."

"I do," he replied softly, unable to meet her gaze. "You have no idea how _much_ this means I trust you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I swear, it should not have affected anything you've done." 

He hoped. Genji had known about her nanotech in a vague kind of way, as she'd explained how the Caduceus Staff kept him alive long enough to receive the cybernetic organs, but he hadn't realized it was part of his ongoing treatment. The dragon was locked into his DNA, a part of his very being, and he'd figured that meant it would have no more bearing on his medical treatment than the gene that gave him black hair.

She did have a point about him not being qualified to actually make that assessment, though.

Morrison had wisely stayed out of the argument, but now he cleared his throat to draw their attention back to him. "Assuming there are no complications from his enhancements, what other considerations are there?"

"Power," Torbjorn said. He pointed at the various connections between Genji's body and the equipment built into his chair. "And all of that still needs to be in there _somewhere_. I think I can miniaturize a fusion cell enough to power the limbs and all the organs at once."

" _Without_ blowing anything up in the process?" Morrison's tone implied this was a very real worry, and had probably happened before. Torbjorn grunted and waved the question off.

"There's also the sheer number of nerve connections." Angela wasn't happy with him, but at least she was still discussing this as a real possibility. Genji hadn't entirely shot himself in his not-yet-existent foot. 

"This is far beyond the scope of anything that's ever been attempted,” she continued. “It would have been bad enough to give him movement and enough sensory feedback to walk, but if you want him combat capable, that's another order of magnitude entirely. There's no way to bury that many nanostrands inside his body the way we do with single limbs."

"We'll have to build a protected channel, essentially an exoskeletal second spine," Torbjorn said. "And do it without restricting his movement, so it can't be rigid. Hmm." He pulled out a datapad and started sketching illegible technical diagrams on it. "Initially I expect he'll have to be plugged in to recharge and recalibrate on a regular basis, probably while he sleeps, but we may be able to lessen the need for that as time goes on. This is going to be an eternal work in progress." He sounded cheerful at the thought.

Plugged in. That made him sound like an Omnic, not a person. Glancing down at his body, Genji sighed and acknowledged he was already pretty damn plugged in. More machine than man, indeed. And growing more so with every addition. But if this was what it took to be able to truly function, he would do it, and do it with gratitude.

"You're going to have to learn how to use the hand all over again, you realize," Angela pointed out. "What we're discussing is far beyond what you have now."

That hadn't occurred to him, but she was right. The sensory information he got from this hand was enough to permit him to hold things and perform ‘normal’ tasks, but he couldn’t aim shuriken or properly wield his blade. Genji hated the thought, but he was committed. "Whatever it takes. I'll handle it."

"I don't doubt it," she sighed, and looked weary. "Jack, what if he _doesn't_ ever recover enough to fight, though? Will he be left with the full expense of the body to pay off if it's not a usable 'weapon'?"

"It would hardly be the first experimental weapons research that hasn't borne fruit." Morrison shrugged. "I'll make sure he's not stuck with the bill any more than he already will be."

"That won't be a consideration." Genji had to believe in his ability to cope with this, couldn't allow even an instant of doubt to creep in. Failure was not an option.

Morrison nodded, appearing to accept Genji's declaration at face value. "Mercy, given that he's already handled the cybernetics with no difficulty or complications thus far, what are the _realistic_ chances his genetic enhancement will make a concrete difference to the full cyborg body adaptation?"

She hesitated, and scowled, but finally sighed. "If it was going to interfere, it probably already would have. I'm upset that he never warned me about the possibility... but then again we did the majority of the cybernetic replacements long before he _could_ have told me about the genetech."

Trying not to be too obvious about his sigh of relief, Genji relaxed. In her anger at his 'betrayal', he'd worried she might throw the roadblock in his way as a punishment, but he should have known better. Angela would always do her best for a patient, no matter her own personal feelings on the matter.

Morrison pushed off the tree, spine as straight as the soldier he was, and his tone took on the snap of command. "All right. Mercy, look into his enhancements, determine as best you can if they will have any impact on further cybernetics, but we're going to proceed on the assumption that they won't. Torbjorn, continue to work on the designs, with adjustments and input from him. I’ll start softening up the budget committee. Shimada..." He extended his right hand. "Welcome to Overwatch."

Grasping Morrison's hand in his, Genji shook it firmly, and bowed at the waist for good measure. "Commander, it is my honour."


	8. Chapter 8

Sound filtered into Genji's consciousness, echoing as if it travelled down a long tunnel to reach him. There was hushed beeping in the background, so much a part of his life now that he hardly noticed it - medical monitors. It was the voice that caught his attention, soft and sweet, feminine and familiar. The words were unintelligible, but the cadence and rhythm suggested a foreign language rather than incomprehension on his part. 

"Weh! Jetzt geht es klipp und klapp, Mit der Scher’ die Daumen ab, Mit der großen scharfen Scher’!"

Blinking, Genji struggled to focus the blur before his eyes. That was a ceiling. A ceiling he knew painfully well, having spent far too many hours staring up at it once he got his vision back. Turning his head, he saw Angela curled up in a comfortable chair she must have had brought into his room, next to his bed. There was a battered, dog-eared children's picture book on her lap; she was reading to him in German.

And she was holding his left hand in hers, thumb stroking over his knuckles in an absent gesture. 

"What..." The word emerged broken and garbled, and Genji coughed. He swallowed to try to wet his parched throat, but there was no moisture in his mouth, either.

"Ah. There you are." Angela leaned over and slipped a couple of ice chips between his lips. Genji sucked on them greedily.

His whole body... 'ached' wasn't nearly the right word. She'd been right - the pain level was far, _far_ beyond what it had been for the basic arm alone. This wasn't something he was going to be able to easily focus through. It would take a great deal of effort to shunt it to the back of his mind when fighting, and it would be impossible to ignore the rest of the time. 

Hissing, Genji tried to clench his right fist, and got only a twitch in response. Yet he could feel some of the rough texture of the blanket beneath his fingers, where before he'd only have known that _something_ was there.

She sighed, fed him more ice chips, and hit the button that would raise his bed and allow him to sit up. "Is there any point in reminding you to take it slow?"

"No." That came out clearer. His eyes were fastened on the foot of the bed, where his blanket had rested on nothing for so long. Now there were vague shapes beneath, the outlines of legs and feet. Genji's chest tightened, and he had to work to keep his breathing steady. "Let me _see_."

Standing, Angela caught the edge of the blanket and lifted it back, tucking it neatly at the side to expose his new body. Genji stared, and stared some more. The legs were clearly robotic, with hinges for the knees that nobody could believe still held human limbs within. Genji had wanted a body that would look more normal, but Torbjorn insisted that they were already pushing any reasonable weight limit. Simple joints could handle more stress than a fully articulated knee, as well as requiring less bulk and mass.

They weren't perfect, but they were the most beautiful thing he'd seen since the moment he'd first opened his new eyes to find Angela leaning over him. Concentrating hard, Genji strained to move his right foot, and managed to flex the toes. Those he'd argued Torbjorn into, because he needed them for climbing, delicate balance movements, and quick changes of momentum when running. 

"It _works_ ," he exclaimed, voice hoarse with barely held back tears of joy. The pain was _nothing_ compared to the pleasure of having a body back. "I'll be able to walk again. How long?"

"Judging by how quickly you adjusted to your first arm? Tomorrow." Angela rolled her eyes. The sarcastic comment startled a laugh out of Genji. "Realistically? Weeks at best. Months before you're anything approaching what you likely consider to be 'good enough'.” 

Months. This was going to be far more frustrating than learning to use the arm the first time, but also so much more worth it. It didn’t matter what it took. Genji _would_ make himself fully functional again.

“On the bright side,” she continued, “your body is far more self-sufficient. Once I'm satisfied your condition is stable, there's no reason you can't be released to live in the regular quarters that will be assigned to you as an agent, and do your physical therapy as an outpatient."

That possibility hadn't even occurred to Genji, though now that it had been dangled before him he was desperate to snatch at it. _Privacy_. Gods, to have whole _hours_ when he wasn't under somebody's observation. To be able to choose his own times to eat, and bathe, and sleep. Being constantly micro-managed was a large part of why he'd rebelled against his family's expectations, and he hadn't been enjoying it here, either. 

Dragging his attention away from the legs, he studied the rest of his body. There were still tubes and connections, but instead of going to equipment by the bed they fed back into the carapace that covered his body. A glowing red circle on his right shoulder was the power cell. "I'll be able to turn the lights off for stealth work, right?" 

Reaching up with his left hand, he explored the protective shell on the back of his neck and head, stabilized by a band that ran around his forehead much like his old hitai-ate, worn to protect his head when working as a ninja. There was a mass of cables dangling from the back.

"It can be turned off for up to four hours at a time, if necessary," she assured him. "Any longer and you risk the systems going into low power mode, so don't push your luck. Careful with those connectors, you don't want to pull or damage them."

Frowning, Genji made a mental note that it would be a point of vulnerability, something an enemy could grab in a close quarters fight. Well, he'd just have to make sure his opponents died so fast, they never got the chance. "What are they for?"

"Recharging the fuel for the power cell, replenishing your nutrients and various fluid levels for the cybernetic organs, and evacuating waste and byproducts." She caught his hand again and tugged it away. "They were always in the design, but the original plan was to have them built into your back. Unfortunately, the spinal nerve connections ended up even more bulky than I'd estimated, and there wasn't room for anything else inside the sheath without sacrificing either your flexibility or your level of sensation. You were already under anesthetic, so I made the call."

"You chose right," he assured her. He could protect the vulnerability as long as he could fight properly, but if his movements were restricted he would be far _more_ vulnerable. Spotting the book she'd set on the bedside table, he tilted his head. "What were you reading?" 

Waking to the melody of her voice was the best possible medicine, and the last thing he'd expected. Of course she would be nearby, waiting for him to come out of the anesthetic, but this... this was the action of someone who _cared_ , and cared deeply, on a personal level. 

His heart lifted further, though it already felt like he was all but flying. She could be so oddly hot and cold in her affections; he'd never been quite sure if the ‘cold’ was because she was falling for him and resisting her feelings, or if the 'hot' was mere professional friendliness and he was reading too much into it. 

Now he was certain. There was no way he was imagining this. She felt the same way he did.

"Die Geschichte vom Daumenlutscher," she answered, her sweet voice making the German sound melodic despite its harsher tones. "It's about a little boy who is warned over and over not to suck his thumbs, and finally has them cut off in punishment. My mother used to read it and the other stories in this book to me." Her hand brushed over the warn cover, a smile of nostalgic affection gracing her lips.

That she would share something so meaningful to her was an even better sign that she cared, but Genji found himself staring at the book in bemusement. "She told you stories about little boys getting their fingers cut off as punishment? That sounds more like something a Yakuza mother would read to her child."

"It's not even the bloodiest tale in the book," Angela laughed. "German folk stories are not known for their pretty endings. Look up the original Brothers Grimm versions of the fairy tales some time."

Her laughter was such a beautiful sound, he couldn't help but grin in response. "And I'm sure you didn't pick that particular story because I keep disobeying orders about my body."

"They _are_ meant to be cautionary tales." Her smile turned impish. "Since we're lacking a neighbouring tailor to come with his shears, you'd best keep a close eye on where my scalpels are." She picked his left hand up and tapped a nail sharply against the first knuckle of his thumb. "You're not getting _any_ more cybernetics than this, ever. So don't lose anything else."

Even a week ago, a joke about his loss would have sent him spiralling into a bad mood, but today nothing could upset him. Genji would probably go back to brooding tomorrow, but for this moment, everything was perfect.

Almost perfect. On impulse, he turned his hand to hold hers, and used it to tug her closer. She was caught off balance, and ended up leaning over the bed with her other hand braced next to his hip, putting her face within his reach. Genji lifted up off his pillows, intending to surprise her with a kiss now that he was certain she returned his feelings.

But the wide-eyed look Angela gave him was one of distress, not startled happiness. At the last moment, he diverted to brush his lips against her cheek instead, keeping the kiss platonic. " _Thank_ you," he murmured in her ear, and didn't try to stop his voice from trembling with gratitude. "I owe you everything. You will never truly understand how much this means to me." How much _she_ meant to him.

His beautiful guardian angel. The one thing that made all of this almost feel worth it, because he'd never have met her if not for what Hanzo had done to him. The one thing that could still make him smile, bringing light into the darkness of his life. Genji needed that light like he needed his next breath. He would cherish and protect her for the rest of their lives, no matter what happened between them.

When he allowed her to pull back, he was fascinated to discover that her blush went all the way to the tips of her ears. She cleared her throat. "You're quite welcome, and please don't think you owe me anything. Frankly, you've done the truly hard part, in surviving and not giving up. I only helped you along."

She was flustered, and he'd _definitely_ pushed too far, but there was a hint of disappointment in her eyes that Genji was incredibly glad to see. She'd wanted the kiss too, she just wasn't ready to admit that. Not _quite_ yet.

That was fine. Genji had a lot of hard work ahead of him to get the full use of his body back, and he probably should be focused on that first. By the time she was ready to accept more from him, he'd be able to offer her something better than a broken man confined to a bed and chair.

No matter what, he was never giving up on her.


	9. Chapter 9

In the daylight hours, Angela could control her wayward thoughts for the most part. But in the depths of sleep, her subconscious had its wicked way.

He was far too good at sneaking up on her, impossibly stealthy when he wanted to be. Angela jumped, nearly spilling the contents of the test tube she'd been about to analyze, when strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. One flesh, one cybernetic, and both unmistakable. "Genji!" 

"You work too hard." His tone was scolding, but his actions were playful as he nuzzled at the back of her neck, lips brushing the nape. It made a shiver of exquisite heat run down her spine, arrowing straight to her sex where moisture bloomed in response. "Come play with me, Angela." 

"I work hard because lives depend on me," she replied, struggling to stay strong. He bit at the side of her neck in punishment for arguing, and she gasped. Her voice was breathless when she continued. "Just like yours did. How happy would you have been if I'd taken time off from saving you in order to play hooky?" 

"Is anyone actually dying, right at this exact moment?" he countered. "You have to sleep, and eat; it's important that you take care of yourself first, so you can take care of the rest of us when we need you. This is just another way of doing that." 

"That argument would sound far more selfless if your cock wasn't digging into my ass," she retorted, startling a laugh out of him both for the answer, and for her coarse language. 

"I never said I wouldn't benefit, too." His hands drifted up, sliding over the bottom curve of her breasts, cupping her through her shirt and bra. 

Her breasts felt heavier when he held them, somehow, and the stiff peaks pressed against the fabric hard enough to be visible. When he brushed his thumbs over the tight buds, she couldn't hold back a moan. "Genji..." 

"You know you want to." He nipped, then sucked at the spot hard enough to leave a mark. She squeaked a protest, and he thumbed her nipples again to make her shudder. 

She did want to, that was the whole problem. If Angela's libido had its way, she'd never stop touching him at all. Tipping her head back against his shoulder, Angela gave herself over to the pleasure he could wring from her so easily. Why was she so helpless against him? 

His lips curved against her skin in what she knew would be a wicked smirk of triumph. The roughness of his scars only further stimulated her sensitive flesh as he sucked at a new spot. Good thing she'd worn a scarf to work to cover the _last_ set of marks he'd left on her pale skin, though from the way the nurses grinned, she wasn't fooling anybody.

He'd stop if she asked him to, but she'd never once said the words. She enjoyed the process of getting the marks far too much - and loved looking at them in the mirror, tangible evidence of his effect on her, which was why the scarf was draped over her chair instead of around her neck right now. 

Squeezing her breast one last time, he dropped his left hand down, skimming over her stomach. When he found the hem of her sweater, she expected him to push up beneath it, seeking skin against skin contact. Angela wasn't at all prepared for him to slip his hand beneath her waistband instead, delving low to cup her sex in an agonizingly intimate move. 

"Genji!" Her moan was a protest and an encouragement, and she couldn't stop her hips from rocking into his touch. "Not _here_!" She'd thought he would pull her into an unoccupied patient room like he had last time, or maybe a supply closet. This was her lab; doctors and nurses could walk in looking for her at any moment.

"I locked the door." He sounded utterly unconcerned about the public location. 

"But everyone will _know_." The thought sent an illicit thrill rushing through her, dampening her panties further. She gasped when his fingertips brushed against that dampness, stroking and rubbing lightly through the silk.

"I'm counting on it," he replied, and bit her earlobe. His fingers delved into her slick folds, finding and circling her clitoris, not _quite_ touching where she wanted him so badly.

Crying out, though she tried desperately to stifle the sound, Angela arched into his hand. Only with him could she truly let go, flinging control to the winds and trusting him to catch her when she fell. Genji coaxed her to heights she'd never imagined existed, and he was there with her every step of the way. 

"Stop teasing," she pleaded, when he still refused to touch her properly. In answer he went further, dipping one finger into her opening, deep enough to make her ache with emptiness but far too shallow to satisfy the craving. Angela slapped a hand over her mouth so her cry of protest wouldn't echo in the halls, and he chuckled into her ear. 

Finally he took pity on her whimpering pleas, and pushed in properly. His fingers filled her up, stretching her tight passage until it felt like she could hardly take it, but she knew his cock would feel even better. It was still pressed against her ass, grinding against her in small, slow motions meant to drive them both wild. He would give it to her soon enough, but he seemed to take it as a personal challenge to get her off as many times, and in as many ways, as possible. 

"Please," she begged again, riding his fingers and savouring the drag of her slick flesh against his. Genji shifted his angle, pressing his palm against her so it rubbed over her clit with each thrusting motion of his hand. The rough callus there scraped her sensitive nub, an extra layer of stimulation that threatened to undo her from the inside out. 

Orgasm was building, a winding tension within her that cried out for harder, faster, _more_. He let her set the pace, matching his motions to the frantic jerking of her hips, no longer teasing but giving her everything she wanted. What she wanted was _him_ , all of him, and she would give him every bit of herself in return...

The sudden, intense spasms of her body clenching in orgasm jerked Angela out of the dream, prompting a frustrated scream that she barely managed to down in her pillow. With nothing inside her and no direct stimulation, the release felt hollow and unsatisfying. 

Tears welled up, and Angela hid them in the pillow too. It was already damp with sweat, as were the sheets tangled around her, and her chest heaved as if she had as much difficulty getting oxygen as Genji did.

Fighting her way free of the confining sheets, Angela squirmed out of her nightgown as well and lay naked on top of the bed, shivering in the cool air. It was the only thing that would calm her quickly, as she now knew from repeated experience. 

In her dreams, there was no way for Angela to control her wayward libido, no way to remind herself that Genji was a patient and absolutely _off limits_. And so she continued to dream, every night, leaving her aching and wanting and desperate. 

Toys and her own hand could grant temporary relief if she got herself off before sleeping, but it only meant the dreams would take longer to start, not avoid them entirely. Using them after the fact made the need worse, not better.

Glancing at her bedside clock, Angela groaned when she saw that it wasn't even midnight. She was so exhausted from her restless, interrupted sleep patterns that she'd turned in early, hoping more time would help. At some point, probably very soon, it was going to start affecting her ability to work, cause her to make mistakes that could be fatal to the patients in her care.

And the patient who was in the most unstable, fragile condition, the one most likely to be hurt or killed by a moment of thoughtlessness on her part, was Genji himself.

She’d tried every over the counter and folk remedy she could find, from warm milk to weighted blankets to melatonin. The problem wasn’t falling asleep, it was dreaming and waking herself up again.

Angela _had_ to get some real, restful sleep, one way or another. There were a limited number of methods to accomplish that as a certainty, none of them good, all of them too easy to fall into a dangerous habit of. Taking stock of her options, Angela decided on the one least likely to cause a potential instant addiction.

A quick, cold shower got her presentable enough to leave her quarters, and minutes later she settled in at the bar of the base canteen. Alcohol was a dangerous 'escape' to indulge in. As a doctor, she knew that better than anyone, but it wasn't as if she _never_ drank. It was only this once. Just enough to let her sleep. Truly.

"Stammheimer, please," she requested of the bartender. "Merlot. The whole bottle - I'll take the rest with me." Right now, she needed a little taste of home. The rich, fruity red wine had always been her favourite.

Three glasses later, Angela was no longer trying to convince herself that she was bringing any of the wine back to her room for another night. She'd never gone through a drunken college student phase, having fast-tracked through her multiple degrees before she was twenty. She was overdue, that was all.

When she reached for the bottle to pour a fourth glass, however, another hand covered hers, stilling it. Angela blinked, studying the pattern of dark fingers against her pale skin, before it occurred to her to check and see who the hand was attached to. Raising her head, Angela found Ana Amari sitting next to her at the bar, giving her a carefully neutral look. 

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Ana asked, her voice as perfectly bland as her expression.

"No," Angela replied, concentrating hard to make sure her words came out crisp and not slurred. "No, I do not think so. I think that I am perfectly on track for where I want to be, which is to _stop_ thinking." Surely, if she could stop thinking entirely, she would have to stop thinking about _him_.

"Mmm." Ana made a noise that could have been agreement or disagreement. "Mind if I have a glass, then?"

Angela considered the bottle, still half full. She could no longer feel her cheeks, which meant she should be well on her way to her goal. Six glasses probably _would_ be far too much. There was enough to share. "Yes, of course. It's quite excellent."

"I'm sure." Ana poured them each a glass. Angela’s was not as full as she'd been pouring them up to this point, but it didn't matter. It would still be the same amount of wine in her by the time the bottle was done. 

They each sipped, and Ana made an appreciative noise. "You're right, for a merlot this is very good. I prefer Egyptian cabernet sauvignon, but I can see why you like it."

"Heathen," Angela sniffed haughtily, then broke down in giggles at her own joke. "I'm sure yours is very good, too. I'll have to try that next time."

"Is there going to be a next time?" Ana raised an eyebrow at her. "What's brought this on? You're not usually the type to indulge, and certainly not to overindulge."

"I'm having my drunken college phase a few years late," Angela informed her, and giggled again. 

"Angela." Ana didn't laugh in return, solemn as ever. "I'm your friend. Talk to me."

"Spoilsport," Angela complained, rolling her eyes. But Ana had that _look_ , like she was focused on a target. Once she zeroed in on someone, there was no getting out of her crosshairs. 

Sighing, Angela set the glass down and propped her chin in her hands, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of tiny mirrors that made up the wall behind the bar. "It's this or I start prescribing myself sleeping pills, and that line I will _not_ cross. Not yet. Give it another week, and I might be considering it."

Then she realized how bad that sounded, and blew a raspberry. "That was a joke. I don't think that was clear enough. Was it?"

"Not really." Ana swirled the wine in her glass, apparently absorbed in watching it, but Angela was pretty sure the other woman was actually studying her in the reflection of the wall. "And from the way you're talking, I fear it might stop being a joke at some point. What is going _on_?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Angela sniffled. Horrified at herself, she wiped them away, but more replaced them. "Oh, Ana. I don't know what to do. I can't stop _thinking_ about him!"

The wail brought sympathy into Ana's eyes, and the other woman reached over to rest her hand atop Angela's, offering comfort. "Shimada?"

"He's so..." Angela struggled for words, unable to come up with anything that could hope to encapsulate her feelings. "The strength and determination with which he's facing this whole ordeal are incredible. I've never seen anything like it. Anyone would admire him for that." The words came out defensive, and she didn't really know why she was trying to justify herself to Ana, but it felt like she needed to.

"Of course anyone would admire him," Ana agreed, nodding. "But that's not what you're talking about, really. Is it?"

Angela bit her lower lip to stop it from wobbling. She'd never been a weepy drunk before - and contrary to what some people thought of her, she _had_ been drunk in the past, she just didn't do it often. Or nearly this much. Perhaps that was the problem. She made a mental note to herself. If she was going to drink more than two glasses of wine, bring tissues.

Ana was still talking, she realized. Blinking, Angela shook her head, then regretted it when the room spun. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, admiration doesn't send a normally well-adjusted young woman searching for sleep at the bottom of a bottle." Ana's tone was drier than the wine, and she turned to spear Angela head on with a knowing look. "You're falling for him."

"Yes." Giving up, Angela buried her face in her hands, elbows propped on the bar to keep her upright. "Yes, I am. I am! I keep telling myself not to, that it's inappropriate. But he's _trying_ to seduce me, I know he is, though he believes he's being sneaky about it. And it's working, damn him. He almost kissed me, after the surgery for his body. God help me, I wanted him to."

"Mmhm." Ana's response was noncommittal. "You know it doesn’t matter how he feels."

"Of course it doesn't!" She threw her hands into the air, and nearly tipped backward off the stool in reaction to the sudden movement. Ana caught her between the shoulder blades with one strong hand, and eased her upright again. 

Angela barely noticed, lost in the storm of emotions boiling within her. "He's completely dependent on me, and the false intimacy created by the doctor patient relationship is easy to mistake for something more. Even if his affection is genuine, it’s likely an unhealthy fixation on me as his saviour. It would absolutely be an abuse of my position to take advantage of him."

"I'm glad you remember that, at least." Ana left her hand where it was, rubbing slowly up and down Angela's back, comforting and supportive. " _This_ isn't the answer, however."

"If he was any other patient, I'd have transferred him to another doctor months ago, as soon as I realized what was happening," Angela said, slumping into the contact. "But I'm the only one who can keep him alive through this. The _only_ one. I can't send him away and I can't stop thinking about him and I don't know what to do!"

"Yes, you do.” Ana speared her with another sharp look. “You suck it up, you do your job, and you pine over him and never say a word. Sooner or later he will be well enough to leave your care, and eventually, the heartbreak will ease. That is the joy of being young... you still have so much time left in your life to recover and find new love."

"But what about in the meantime?" Her eyes were watering again, damn it. Angela rubbed at them, aggravated with herself. 'Sucking it up' was exactly what she'd been doing all this time, and it wasn't working well.

"You lean on your friends," Ana said, her tone scolding but her touch affectionate. "You come weep on my shoulder, _not_ into your wineglass. You go out as much as you can, interact with other people, _do_ things to take your mind off it. Frankly, you could use a bit of a break from work. I know your habits, you don't rest as much as you should."

The echo of Genji’s words in the dream drew a shiver of need down her spine, but Angela did her best to rally. "Do you hear that ringing sound? I believe it must be the kettle calling you back, Ms. Pot."

Chuckling, Ana patted her on the back and withdrew. "If you can make bad jokes, you're doing better. I mean it, Angela. You can come to me anytime."

"I know." Leaning sideways on her stool, Angela hugged Ana's arm and rested her head on the offered shoulder. "I just hope it's enough." Because she was quite certain that even if she never saw him again from this moment on, the heated dreams weren’t going to be stopping any time soon.


	10. Chapter 10

A knock on the door interrupted Genji's meditation. Before the fight with his brother, that would have been enough to jar him entirely out of any kind of clear state of mind. Since first waking in Overwatch Headquarters nearly a year ago, he'd had a _great_ deal of practice at the skill, meditation being one of the few ways he had to pass the time. So he was able to stay in trance, but allow a part of his mind to consider whether or not to answer.

He didn't tend to get many visitors. Being social was not his priority in any way - a statement that would have astonished anyone who'd known him in Japan. Genji hated the way most people looked at him with pity, and had no interest in making friends when his only real purpose was to train hard and get good enough to be able to take his revenge on Hanzo.

But it might be Angela. He didn't see nearly enough of her since being granted permission to move into normal quarters as an outpatient, but often she'd seek him out to catch up on how he was doing. Genji cherished and looked forward to those rare private moments together.

So he rose back to full consciousness and stood, noting the smoothness of the motion with a sense of accomplishment. He was fully recovered, training hard to get back into proper fighting form, and finally starting to feel like he was no longer an invalid of any kind.

Still not 'human' - this abomination of a body couldn't be called 'human' by any means. Nor could he ever truly think of himself as being 'whole'. But 'functional', at least.

When he opened the door, however, it wasn't Angela on the other side. Gabriel Reyes had visited Genji several times as he recovered, whenever the man was at Headquarters, sounding Genji out about his suitability for the elite team Blackwatch was putting together. He had the same military bearing as Morrison, but somehow managed to make the posture look casual, which always bemused Genji.

"Shimada." Reyes grinned at him, and held out a thick manila envelope. "I could have emailed this to you, but I wanted to deliver it personally. You've been officially accepted into the ranks of Overwatch, and I am unofficially commandeering you for the black ops division that Overwatch absolutely does not have. Welcome to Blackwatch, Agent Shimada."

Genji accepted the envelope with both hands, the motion automatic as his brain spun. Active duty. The words he'd been longing to hear for months now. Finally an end to cooling his heels, doing endless exercises, hoping they would let the bird out of the cage and allow him to _do_ something. "It's my honour, Commander."

"We're wheels up at nineteen-hundred hours on the dot, so don't be late." Reyes glanced around Genji's room, and chuckled. "I was going to ask if you needed help packing and hauling your shit to the plane, but I guess that's not an issue. Do you have anything personal in here at all?"

Packing? Genji blinked, then swore internally. In all his anxious desire to get out into the field, it somehow hadn't occurred to him that if he was in Blackwatch, he wouldn't be stationed at Overwatch Headquarters. "Nineteen-hundred _tonight_?" That was less than two hours from now.

"Yeah, why? You got a hot date or somethin'?" Reyes lifted an eyebrow at him.

"If I have my way, yes," Genji muttered under his breath, his mind now spinning for another reason entirely. His slow, cautious seduction of Angela had just run into an abrupt roadblock. He'd been thinking he might be able to ask her for dinner soon, but now he was out of time. Louder, he added, "There are people I'd like a chance to say goodbye to. Is there any possibility I could have a little more time?"

"Oh, 'people', huh?" Reyes had a knowing grin plastered across his face, suggesting he'd heard the first part of what Genji had said. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but you're banging your head against a brick wall. You're not the first to try to snag our Mercy's heart, and you won't be the last. She doesn't date patients, full stop."

Heat flared across Genji's cheeks. He considered protesting, but it was clear Reyes wouldn't believe a word of denial. "Is it that obvious?" he asked instead.

"Only to anyone who's been in the presence of the two of you for more than five minutes," Reyes 'assured' him, grin growing wider still. "Tell you what. If you're that determined, go ahead and ask her to dinner. If she says yes, shoot me a text and we'll leave oh-seven-hundred tomorrow morning instead. If I don't hear from you, I'll see you on the launch pad at nineteen-hundred."

"Deal." It was an incredibly generous offer. The Commander presumably had many demands on his time, and if he'd wanted to leave that quickly there was probably a reason for the haste. Genji knew Reyes was only making the deal because he believed Genji would be turned down, but he also sensed the man was honourable enough to keep his word if Genji did succeed with Angela.

And Genji had a secret weapon Reyes wasn’t aware of, because he already _knew_ she wanted him just as much. A million little details told him so; the way she touched him at every opportunity, the extra time she took out of her busy day to spend with him, and most of all, the fact that she hadn't scolded him for the near kiss.

He bowed to Reyes. "If you'll excuse me, Commander, I have some preparations to make."

"I'd say break a leg, but it's your heart that's gonna get broken. Also you have no legs." Reyes shook his head, and patted Genji on the shoulder. "Go get 'er, tiger."

"Not tiger," Genji corrected him. "Dragon. And dragons _never_ give up on winning a treasure."

* * *

Well over an hour later Genji stood outside Angela's office, staring at the touchpad that would alert her someone was at the door. Athena had confirmed she was there, dealing with the inevitable piles of paperwork that came from running a massive military hospital. All he needed to do was ring the bell, and he knew she'd invite him in, grateful for the excuse for a break.

An overwhelming case of nerves had struck him in the last few minutes, both astonishing and dismaying him. Genji had never once felt nervous about asking someone out, not even the very first time in grade school. His easy confidence was a large part of the reason people rarely turned him down, in fact.

But none of those people had ever _mattered_. He'd never had his heart truly invested, never feared the consequences if the person said 'no'. 

Worse, now that the moment of truth was at hand, he kept thinking about his ravaged body and wondering if he really had anything to offer her. Angela was the one person who had never regarded him with pity or horror, and seemed to truly believe that he was still human. But what if intimacy with an abomination was a step too far, even for her?

Every minute that ticked away was one less that he had to convince her, before he was forced to admit defeat and run for the launch pad. His preparations had taken much longer than he'd anticipated, and he was now severely short on time. Scolding himself for being a coward, he reached out and tapped the pad.

"Come in," Angela called through the door. Taking one last deep breath, Genji opened the door and strode in.

She was seated at her desk, hair pulled up in a ponytail to get it out of her face, reams of paperwork stacked in neat piles. When she glanced up to see him there, her smile was startled and happy. "Genji! You don't often come seeking me here." The smile vanished a moment later, replaced by concern as she pushed away from the desk to stand. "Are you all right? Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "I just wanted to see you." She cocked her head quizzically, and he pulled his left hand out from behind his back, revealing the bouquet of wildflowers he'd spent far too long picking from the nearby mountainside. "For you."

Angela's face lit up, and she accepted the blooms to lift them to her nose and inhale deeply. "Gentiana acaulis. How in the world did you know they're my favourite flower?"

He blinked, then smiled. The time spent had definitely been worth it, for a reaction like that. "I didn't," he admitted. "That’s just luck. They remind me of you - the same colour as your eyes. The first colour I saw when you took the bandage off."

Laughing, she turned to place the vase in a spot of honour on her desk. "They used to be endangered, you know. One of the very few positives that came out of the tragedy of the Omnic Crisis - so many people died or fled to the fortified cities, the Alps were allowed to grow wild again, and many species have recovered to flourish. Thank you. What's the occasion?"

"I've been officially accepted into Blackwatch." He snorted in amusement, thinking of Reyes’ words. “Well, unofficially, since it doesn’t exist.”

"That’s wonderful." Turning back, she clasped her hands before her, beaming. "I know you've been chafing at the bit. Congratulations. I knew you could do it."

"Once I convinced you that I could handle the body at all, you mean," he teased her. She rolled her eyes, and he sobered. "I'm being transferred to a Blackwatch base."

"Ah." Her smile shifted, sadness creeping in despite her obvious efforts to hide the regret. "It will be strange not to have you underfoot. I don't doubt I'll have to heal you again sometime soon, though."

"No question." Genji took a step closer, and caught her hands in his, cradling them between their chests. They were now close enough that their mingled hands brushed their bodies with each rise of their chests. Her white labcoat hung open, and the black sweater she wore beneath was thin and tight, allowing him to feel the curve of her breasts against the back of his fingers.

Angela's breath caught in her throat, eyes going wide, and her hands trembled faintly in his. "Genji..."

"I love you," Genji blurted out, then winced for that incredibly smooth delivery. Clearing his throat, he tried to recover. "Have dinner with me. A real date. Please, Angela." 

He couldn't take her to a fancy restaurant, not if he wanted to be able to eat too, but he'd spent some of his prep time making arrangements for an intimate, romantic candlelight dinner in his quarters instead. 

Her trembling increased, and she seemed to have as much trouble breathing as he did without the mask. "Genji, I can't do that. You know I can't. I'm your doctor."

"Technically, not anymore," he pointed out. "I'll be under the care of whatever doctor is in charge of my home base. I know it will be awkward, at first. And being stationed at separate Watchpoints means I won't be able to see you nearly as much as I want to. But we can make it work, and I know you feel the same way I do."

"I..." Swallowing, she closed her eyes and bowed her head. There were so many emotions swirling through her expression he could hardly identify any of them, but he could tell she was badly torn. "You're... not wrong. And I apologize for that. It is entirely inappropriate of me, and I sincerely hope I never put any kind of pressure on you as a result."

"Pressure!" He laughed, and rubbed his left thumb over her knuckles. "You put so little pressure on me I've had to spend months slowly seducing you. I thought I would have more time, but I can't leave without knowing you'll be waiting for me. I love you."

"You were completely dependent on me. I saved your life, I gave you your sight and arm and body back. Of course you have feelings for me, that's natural, but Genji, it _cannot happen_."

Letting go of her hands, he cupped her face, palms at her jaw and thumbs brushing her cheeks. "I'm a ninja, Angela. I'm not known for following the rules. Tell me that you don't love me, that you don't want me, and I will accept that. But don't lie to me when you do it."

Lifting her head, she opened her eyes again - and tears welled up, magnifying the blue until it shone as deep and rich as the flowers. To Genji's dismay, they were _not_ happy tears, her brow creased and anguish shining through the wetness. The tears spilled free, trailing down her cheeks and over his thumbs, and more followed the first. 

"I do love you," she whispered, and she sounded absolutely wretched. Not what a man hoped for when the woman he loved confessed her feelings. "But I swore an _oath_. 'First, do no harm' is not the whole of it. I cannot be with you. I could lose my job, my licence, but most of all, I would lose any respect I have for myself. I'm sorry. The answer is no."

Chills ran down Genji's spine. This was one aspect he hadn't considered. He known there were rules against doctor patient relationships, but he’d been thinking of them as exactly that - _rules_. Not vows. Oaths were sacrosanct, even to the Yakuza. Maybe especially to them, keeping as they did to the old ways. 

Now he understood Reyes' insistence that he had zero chance with her. Obviously, the man knew Angela well enough to realize how seriously she took the vows she had made. Angela's strong sense of ethics and honour were a large part of what had drawn Genji to her in the first place. To ask her to abandon that in order to be with him would be destroying the very thing he treasured so much.

It was his turn to tremble, and it felt like his heart really was shattering inside his chest, as if the cybernetic organ was falling apart and refusing to beat. "I understand," he forced himself to say, and the words were as rough as sandpaper. "I'm... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you in this position. I swear, I didn't intend to hurt you."

"I know." Smiling through her continued tears, Angela lifted her hands to wrap around his wrists. He thought she meant to pull him away, but her hands lingered instead. She didn't want to lose the contact any more than he did, both of them knowing that the moment he let go, it was over. "It's not your fault. _You're_ not breaking any oaths. I'm the one who should have made it clear from the start that there can never be anything between us. But I..."

Angela paused, swallowed hard, and dropped her gaze from his. She finished in the tiniest whisper, he almost couldn't hear her. "I wanted you so much."

Gods, it hurt. It _hurt so badly_. Finally Genji understood all the crying and wailing girls did when he broke up with them, because barring the injuries Hanzo had dealt him, this was the worst pain he'd ever felt. A plaintive cry of ‘it’s not fair!’ kept running through his mind, though 'fair' was not a concept that Yakuza or ninja usually spent much time dwelling on.

He loved her. She loved him. The next line was supposed to be 'and they lived happily ever after', but this wasn't a fairy tale. In real life, love didn't solve everything.

Tipping her face up, he brushed away the tears with his thumbs and stared into her eyes. Angela looked every bit as miserable as Genji felt, and that was the last thing he wanted. He knew that every moment he stood there was making it worse, yet he couldn't tear himself away. 

Couldn't they at least have one kiss? Shouldn't they be allowed that much? If he pulled the mask off and leaned in... she would let him, this time. He could see it in her eyes, the same longing and desperate desire. 

One kiss, to say goodbye. One memory, to hold forever.

Genji nearly did it. He came so close he could almost taste it, taste _her_ , the sweet sunshine flavour of her lips that he'd imagined so many times in the last year. 

But one kiss would become two, and two would become more, and the next step would be to argue that since they were breaking the rule anyway, they might as well go farther and have a complete memory instead of just a kiss. In the heat of the moment, it would be so easy to justify, and he knew he could persuade her as well.

And then she would regret it and feel guilty, maybe for the rest of her life. 

With precise deliberation, he let go of her and stepped back, out of reach. That still wasn't far enough, because he couldn't pull his attention off her lush mouth, so he turned his back on her to avoid the temptation. 

"I will not be the cause of your dishonour," he growled, fists clenched. He wasn't even sure who he was angry with - himself, her, the entire fucking universe. "We will never speak of this again."

She cleared her throat, and Genji tried very hard to pretend he hadn't heard the accompanying sniffle. "I hope, maybe after some time, we can eventually be friends."

 _Friends_? Was she joking? It was all he could do to hold himself away from her, to not turn and claim her mouth after all, prove to her exactly why they could never hope to be friends. Genji held himself rigid, calling on every bit of discipline he had. 

"No, Dr. Ziegler," he ground out. She made a choking sound, a stifled cry of protest at him addressing her so formally. He ignored it with effort. "I do not think that will be possible. I will see you in a few months for my next checkup, I assume."

"Yes." Her voice broke, and she sniffled again. Genji gritted his teeth against the urge to comfort her. "Of course. Good luck, Gen... Mr. Shimada. I know you'll do very well in Blackwatch."

Somehow, Genji forced himself to take a step away from her. Then another. And another, until he was at her door. There, at what felt like it might be a safe distance, he turned one last time.

The sunlight streaming in the window highlighted the curve of her cheek, the pert tilt of her nose, the blushing rose colour of her lips. It glinted off her blond hair, making the glossy strands look even paler, and gave a peach tint to her creamy skin. And those beautiful eyes, the same vibrant blue of the flowers still on the desk behind her... 

An angel, indeed.

Genji bowed, low and formal, eyes down as he rarely bothered to do. "Sayounara, waga shugotenshi." _Goodbye, my guardian angel_. 

Then he fled like a coward, because it was either leave, or say 'fuck it' and run back to her.

In the hallway, with the door closed behind him, Genji stumbled to a halt and braced his hand against the wall. His breathing was harsh and choppy, and he'd have feared there was something wrong with his oxygen system except he knew it was only the tears he was forcibly swallowing. From her office came the faint sound of sobbing, and Genji cursed himself for hurting her.

Snarling, he gathered his composure and stormed out of the medical wing. He headed straight for the hangar, not bothering to return to his room. There was nothing there that he would suffer from losing. His odachi and wakizashi were at his back, and the weapons were the only things that mattered. He needed to get out of here.

Reyes was waiting at the launch pad, leaning against the side of the ship with his arms crossed. Standing with him was a young man roughly Genji's age, wearing, of all things, a cowboy hat. And... were those spurs? Then again, Genji was a cyborg ninja, so he supposed he didn't have a lot of room to point fingers at a cowboy wannabe.

As soon as he saw Genji, Reyes pushed upright. "I did warn ya, kid." His tone was sympathetic, amused but not mocking. The cowboy cocked his head, curious. At least Reyes hadn't been spreading tales.

"Yes, you did. Now let's go," Genji snarled, pushing past the two and into the ship. "No point in wasting time." He dropped into a jump seat, and growled when the cowboy looked like he was contemplating sitting next to Genji. Thankfully, the other man backed off and found a different seat. The last thing Genji wanted to do was try to make friends with anyone.

The one thing that had made all of this bearable was knowing that if he'd never fought and lost to Hanzo, he'd never have met Angela. His angel had carried him through the darkness in far more ways than simply saving his life. Now he'd not only lost that light, he was in more pain than he'd ever felt before, the emotional wounds piling on top of the eternal grinding agony of his body.

No, he wasn't going to be making friends any time soon. The only purpose that remained in his life was revenge against Hanzo, and now he had even more pain to make his brother pay for.


	11. Chapter 11

_Ten years later_

Angela had fully intended to treat her birthday like any other working day. Patients didn't stop suffering because it happened to be the anniversary of the day she was born. Her refugee field hospital, like all humanitarian relief efforts, was woefully understaffed and underfunded, so it was vital that everyone pitch in as much as possible.

But the nurses ganged up on her, and she found herself gently but firmly pushed off duty the moment her official hours on call were up. Sighing, Angela gave in with good grace. The nurses and other doctors were her friends, and cared for her wellbeing. She knew they were right to be concerned that she didn't take enough breaks, but it was so difficult to justify what felt like slacking off when lives hung in the balance.

Today of all days, though, she desperately looked forward to returning to the tiny suite of rooms she currently lived in at a nearby hostel. Her flowers would be waiting.

Every birthday for the last ten years, without fail, she would return to her rooms at the end of the day and find a beautiful bouquet of gentiana acaulis waiting for her. There was never a note, no indication at all of who had sent the flowers, nor of how they were delivered. 

Of course she knew who they were from. In the beginning Genji refused to acknowledge it, in fact had flatly denied being the culprit. After the fall of Overwatch, he’d disappeared and Angela had expected to stop receiving the bouquets. But on her next birthday there they were, their soft, delicate scent suffusing her quarters.

It was his only defiance of his promise never to speak again of his feelings for her. Genji had been polite but distant since that day, interacting with her only when necessary for his health, and actively avoiding any other situation where they might come in contact. The avoidance hurt, but at the same time Angela was grateful. If he'd continued to press his suit, she feared eventually her willpower would have failed.

But oh, she looked forward to those flowers, though the mere sight of them made her heart ache with regret.

Except this time, when she opened the door of her room and slipped inside, there was no sweet scent to greet her. Disappointed, Angela looked around, wondering if she'd left work too early for him. It had never mattered before - whenever she got home, they would be waiting, as fresh and perfect as if they'd been picked only minutes earlier.

Biting her lip, Angela held back tears with an effort. She would _not_ feel sorry for herself because Genji hadn't come with her flowers. For all she knew he was simply too busy to make it this year, in the middle of something important.

Nothing had ever stopped him before. Even one time when she knew for a fact he'd been out on a Blackwatch mission, he'd still managed somehow.

"Please be okay," she whispered, clasping her hands to her heart in a fervent prayer. For the last seven years, the flowers had been her only confirmation that he was still alive and well, somewhere out there. 

Wiping one stubborn tear from her eye, she turned to hang up her labcoat... and gasped in startled awe.

A thin rice paper parchment hung on the back of her door, with an ink wash painting nearly three feet high. It was a stylized image of an angel, one arm reaching up to heaven, wings outstretched as she flew above a field of flowers. Gentians - the only colour in the otherwise grey-scale image was the pop of rich indigo on the petals, and in the angel's eyes.

No... not an angel. Staring, Angela reached out to trace her fingertips over the wings. That configuration of 'feathers', the way they streamed out behind like rays of light... that was the Valkyrie suit. 

It was a picture of _her_. Simple, stunning, and absolutely breathtaking in its beauty. Trembling, she pulled her hand back and covered her mouth, struggling hard not to cry.

"Do you like it?"

The soft question made her shriek with surprise and spin around, hand going to the grip of her pulse pistol where it rested at her hip. She might be a doctor, but she treated patients in the midst of war zones, and Angela knew how to protect herself.

In a shadowed corner of the room stood a man in silver armour, faceplate lit with neon green across the place where eyes should be. There was a popping sound, followed by a hiss, and the man flipped the visor up, revealing a glowing red gaze that was painfully familiar, though she hadn’t seen it in years.

" _Genji_!" Despite knowing it was inappropriate, Angela flew across the room to throw herself into his arms, hugging him tight around the neck. He wouldn’t feel it through the unyielding metal, but the solidness of it reassured her that she wasn’t dreaming. "I've been so worried about you."

"I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around her waist in turn, and rested his forehead against hers. "I've worried about you too. It's so good to see you."

She hugged him once more, then pulled back enough to run her hands over the shoulders and chest of his suit, frowning. "Who's been doing your upkeep? I've been frantic, thinking you must surely have systems shutting down from lack of maintenance by now. Torbjorn said you would drop by to visit him sometimes early on, but he hadn't seen you in years."

Though she tried to step back further, he kept his grip on her waist, holding her in place. It was light enough that she could have broken it if she'd really tried, but the last thing Angela wanted to do was let go of him. She _had_ been worried about him, but the simple truth was that she'd missed him.

"I've been studying with the Shambali," was his shocking answer. "The Omnic monks and acolytes there are far more technically advanced than anyone realizes, especially when it comes to robotics, and they are also powerful healers. They have done a great deal for me - spiritually, as well as physically. I do not mean to disparage the miracles you worked to save my life and give me back my body, but for the first time since that terrible battle with Hanzo, I am truly whole."

"You're a _monk_?" Angela blurted out, staring at him in dismay. Then she scolded herself. She _couldn't have him_ , so what did it matter if he'd taken some kind of spiritual vows? Especially when they'd clearly done so much to improve his quality of life. 

He chuckled, then laughed outright, astonishing her further. "No! I couldn't be if I wanted to, they don't accept humans as acolytes. Besides, there is still too much for me to live for in the world. I am not willing to withdraw from it and spend the rest of my life in contemplation."

Even at the best of times, before things had gone so badly sideways between them, she'd never heard him laugh like that. Genji was _happy_ , and it was a good look on him. 

A _very_ good look, she discovered when he let go of her with his left hand to reach up and pull his mask off, revealing his wide grin.

"Genji! Your lungs," she protested as he set the mask and visor aside on the desk. The protest was weak, and she couldn't work up any real dismay. It had been a decade since she'd seen his beautiful smile. 

"I'm all right," he assured her. "The monks couldn't fix me, but they've continued the healing that you started. I can spend a little time without the oxygen, if I'm careful not to overdo it."

Angela wasn't entirely sure she believed him, and her fingers itched for her scanners. "I should check you over anyway. Make sure everything is..."

Cupping her jaw, he put his thumb firmly across her lips, hushing her. She blinked up at him, astonished, and his smile turned sly. "Absolutely not," he said, as firm as she'd ever heard him. "Under no circumstances are you coming near me with anything remotely medical. You're not my doctor anymore. Understand?"

Hurt stabbed at her heart. Didn't he trust her to be able to help him? Were these Omnic monks so much better than her? Her lower lip trembled beneath his finger at what felt like a repudiation.

Sighing, he brushed his thumb across her lips. "Angela." His voice was low, intimate, in a way that sent shivers down her spine despite the ten years she'd spent struggling to get over him. "You aren't listening. Why do you think I've spent so long away? I wanted to be sure there was no doubt. _You are not my doctor anymore_."

Lifting his other hand, he held her face, the way he had that day so long ago. Angela's breath caught in her throat as she realized what he was saying. It wasn't a rejection of her. Just the opposite.

Like the sneaky ninja he was, Genji had spent years stubbornly removing the obstacle that kept them apart.

Without allowing herself to think about it any further, Angela slid her arms around his neck again and leaned in to kiss him. Genji parted his lips for her immediately, tongue sweeping out to dominate hers, taking control of the kiss. He was fierce and triumphant, groaning against her mouth in a sound that was as much victory as need - though there was plenty of the latter.

It was everything she'd spent years dreaming about, everything she'd wanted so much from him and never imagined she could actually have. His lips were warm and firm against hers, rough where scarring intruded, but that only introduced further delicious friction in the slow glide of flesh against flesh. Angela pressed against him, whimpering when her body found only the hard metal of his suit. 

"Genji," she pleaded, not even entirely sure what she was asking for. _Everything_. Ten years, and she'd nearly convinced herself she was over him, that her anticipation of his birthday gift was only lingering affection. But one touch and he'd undone her, transporting her right back to that day when she'd ached so badly for him to ignore her protests and kiss her anyway. 

"I'm here," he replied, no less affected than she was, his voice husky with desire and trembling with the pain of how long it had taken them to reach this point. "I'll never leave you again. I understand better now, why you had to turn me away. You were right - what I felt then _was_ partly dependence, and the shine of you being my saviour. Now I am strong, and whole. You will always be my angel, but I can finally offer you a man in love, not a damaged boy with a desperate crush."

Tears spilled over her cheeks, but unlike the last time he'd confessed to her, she wasn't crying from anguish and heartbreak. It was pure joy that speared through her and filled her heart until it overflowed. "I love you," she whispered, too overcome to manage anything louder. "You'll never know _how_ difficult it was for me to say no that day, and every day after. Each time you called me 'Dr. Ziegler', it broke my heart all over again. I came so close to giving in, more times than I can count."

"I'm glad you didn't." He stroked her cheeks again, smiling at her, though regret and heartache shone in his eyes. "Much as I hated it then. You would have been miserable about betraying your oaths for the rest of your life, and perhaps even come to resent me. In turn, my anguish over what Hanzo did to me, my certainty that I was no longer human, would have poisoned everything good between us. In the end, we might have destroyed each other. Now, we are free to be together. If you'll have me?"

The laughter in his eyes said he was already certain what her answer would be. Nor could she protest that he was wrong. The best she could do was make him work for it, as punishment for letting her worry about him all these years. 

"I expect to be romanced, you know." She arched an eyebrow at him, trying for her best 'scolding doctor' look of disapproval. "Don't think you'll get away with not having to make an effort because I already love you."

"My angel, if you asked for the moon, I would find a way to give it to you." He kissed her again, long and slow and lingering, allowing each of them to savour the taste of the other. 

When he finally let go of her, it was only to reach up and press a spot on his shoulder that unlatched part of the armour, pulling the whole left arm off. Unable to resist, Angela ran her hand over the muscled curves of his shoulder and bicep, caressing the way she'd always longed to do. 

In turn, he brushed his thumb against her lips again, shuddering when she darted her tongue out to taste his skin. "So,” he murmured, his tone wicked. “If I have to work for it, does that mean I'm not allowed to do more than kiss you until I've sufficiently earned it? And if so, exactly how far can I stretch the definition of 'kiss'? Because I've waited years to taste you. _All_ of you." 

"Impatient," she teased, but the way it came out breathless stole some of her stern tone.

"Patience is not something I'm known for," he agreed, leaning in to run his tongue along the shell of her ear. "You of all people should remember that."

Closing her eyes, Angela gave herself over to his touch. "I suppose worshipping me is one way of earning the right for more," she conceded. She was trying for 'graciously regal', but the squeak at the end when he nipped her earlobe didn't quite fit the image she was going for.

"Then your wish is my command." He slid his arms around her waist, cupping his hands over the top curve of her ass to tug her closer. "What do you wish first? For me to touch and stroke you right here, see if I can get you off even with your clothes on?" Shifting, he pressed one thigh between hers, the hard metal grinding against her damp core. 

Her hips rocked into it with no conscious volition, riding his leg to rub her clit against the seam of her pants. Angela moaned as the tight bundle of nerves swelled, each movement more pleasurable than the last. 

God, he'd barely even touched her yet and she was so wet and ready for him. He probably _could_ get her off right where they stood, like this, without all that much effort. A flush of mingled embarrassment and arousal burned across her cheeks, and she buried her face against his shoulder to hide it. "Yes," she whispered, overcome.

He stroked his left hand up and down her back in a sweet, loving caress, while his right gripped her ass to urge her to move harder, faster against him. The way he held her was nothing but pure adoration. Angela shivered, heart beating so hard she was sure he must be able to hear it. 

"Or, I could strip you down," he continued, ducking his head to run his mouth along the side of her neck. His accent grew thicker, as if he forgot to concentrate on forming the English sounds. "I've wondered forever what kind of panties you wear. Your sensible, professional nature would want something practical, comfortable, easy to clean. And yet, that streak of feminine sensuality that shines within you would demand soft, silky, and attractive. I'm betting on satin and lace. Am I right?"

Just when Angela thought she couldn't blush any harder. "Y-yes." Pretty, sexy lingerie was her one real indulgence when it came to clothing. It didn't matter that she had no one to show it off for; _she_ knew she looked fantastic in the lacy silk. Now that Genji was about to peel her clothes off to see for himself, Angela had never been more grateful that sensuality had won over practicality in this one regard.

She was shivering against him, breath coming in little gasps against his shoulder. He took a step forward, nudging her to move with him, then another, until her ass fetched up against the edge of her table. Hefting her up, he perched her on the edge, stepping closer so her legs were around his waist. Genji ran his hands up to her breasts, cupping and kneading them gently. She could feel the warmth of his left contrasting the cool touch of his right, her nipples beading tight against his palms.

"Mmh. Definitely lace under there." He sounded far too smug, but Angela couldn't seem to find the breath to take him down a peg. "Do you want me to take your clothes off, angel? This table would be the perfect height for me to go to my knees and put my mouth on you, lick you until you beg me to stop. What do you say?"

The motion of her hips was growing frantic, her body tightening deep inside, aching for more. Never mind getting her clothes off; he was going to make her come just by _talking_ to her, at this rate. "Yes!"

When he pulled away she nearly screamed, but he was tugging at the waist of her pants and she desperately wanted them off. Bracing her hands on the table, Angela lifted her hips to allow him to pull the slacks down her legs, revealing the scrap of damp aqua silk clinging to her curls. She caught the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head as well, baring the matching lace bra that cupped her full breasts, then tugged the tie out of her hair for good measure.

Genji had gone to his knees to remove her shoes and socks along with the pants, and now he knelt there looking up at her, heated admiration shining in his eyes. "Still as pretty as ever," he said, his voice husky. "And you'll be beautiful inside until the day you die." He ran his hands back up her legs, nudging her knees wider so he could slide his shoulders between them, and he was right that the height of the table put his head at the level of her sex.

He closed the distance, and the heat of his mouth on her inner thigh felt like a firebrand trailing over the skin. When he reached her core he didn't hesitate, pushing the silk panties aside and diving in to slip his tongue between the wet folds, seeking and finding her swollen clitoris. Gasping, Angela tangled the fingers of one hand in the thick strands of his dark hair, her other hand clutching at his shoulder as she arched her back, pushing hard against his tongue.

To her great relief he didn't tease, seeming to understand that she was already too undone to stand any further torment without falling apart completely. Genji caressed her with long, firm strokes of his tongue, starting at her opening and licking all the way up over her clit. His pace was fast enough to keep pushing her higher, but slow enough to draw it out and let her truly enjoy it.

Angela's whole body hummed with pleasure, every swipe of his tongue drawing her tighter and tighter until she was surely clutching at his hair hard enough to hurt. He didn't make a single sound of protest, in fact moaned against her with his own pleasure, the vibration making her cry out. Then he parted her labia with his fingers, using his _right_ hand, the chill of the metal almost stinging against the heat of her flesh.

When he plunged his finger inside, the sweet pressure of it was exactly what she needed to reach the peak. She convulsed around him, hips bucking with the force of her orgasm, moaning. Genji didn't stop, didn't let up for even a moment, in fact sped his pace until his tongue was flicking over her clit so fast she couldn't feel the individual touches. A second orgasm hit her hard on the heels of the first, even more intense, and Angela _screamed_ in ecstasy. 

He still didn't stop, but did slow and gentle his touch, guiding her through the shuddering aftershocks. When he finally pulled away and Angela was able to catch her breath, she was startled to find herself sprawled on her back on the table, staring up at the ceiling as her chest heaved. Her hand was shaking as she carded it through his hair - her whole body was shaking, in fact. Had she ever outright screamed during sex before? If so, this was definitely the loudest she'd ever been.

Pushing to his feet, Genji leaned over and scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest with one arm beneath her back and the other beneath her feet. "I want to take you to bed," he murmured, nuzzling her cheek with his. "I want to make you scream like that again, but with me inside you. Shit, Angela, I want to fuck you so hard you'll see stars. May I, please?" He'd started out soft and romantic, but the groan in his last rough words said his control was finally breaking.

Good. She didn't want him in control. She wanted him just as wrecked and needy and desperate as she was. "Ja, bitte." He might be losing his English sounds, but Angela had apparently forgotten the language entirely, because nothing else would come out.

Thankfully he seemed to understand, because he carried her the few short steps into her bed and laid her out on the mattress, arranging her as carefully as if he was paying homage at an altar to a goddess. While she rested there and tried to remember how to make her body move, he unlatched his chest plate and pulled it off, revealing the badly burned and scarred flesh beneath. 

Always before this, when he'd been forced to remove the shell so she could check his systems, Genji would look away and refuse to acknowledge his own ravaged body. This time he was easy in his own skin, his stance casual and unconcerned. Angela smiled at him, even as she bit her lower lip against the tears that wanted to form.

She managed to remember her English. "You really have accepted yourself, haven't you?" Pushing up onto her knees, she reached eagerly for him, and was delighted when he allowed her touch without hesitation. "Genji, I'm so happy for you." 

She nuzzled against his chest, careful of the places where synthetic skin had been fused to his real flesh, kissing every inch she could reach. Her hands explored his waist, searching for sensitive spots, smiling against his skin when her nails over his navel made him shudder.

Genji retaliated by carding his fingers through her hair, rubbing her scalp and down her neck and shoulders. When he reached her bra strap, he deftly unhooked it, proving he was no stranger to women's lingerie. As if that incredible performance with his tongue hadn't been proof enough. Angela was surprised by the stab of jealousy that thought spurred within her, but she buried it firmly. Whatever he might have done in the past, or even in the years since she'd seen him last, he was _hers_ , now.

"Come down here," she demanded, catching him by the hips and tugging. "It's my turn to have fun."

"What I did wasn't fun?" He raised both eyebrows in an exaggerated way, making it clear he was teasing. He sank onto the bed next to her, and let her push him back so he was reclining against her small mountain of pillows. 

"It was very fun," she assured him, shifting to sit astride his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. Leaning in, she brushed a kiss over his lips. "You did say I could do whatever I wish. Right now, I wish to have as much of you to play with as possible."

"Yes, ma'am." Undoing one last latch, he lifted away the metal plate that protected his groin. He gave a little sigh of relief as it came away, allowing his cock to spring free and come to rest more naturally against his stomach.

Angela had seen him naked before, but the view in bed was _very_ different from that on the operating table. Fully erect, his cock was thick and hard, big enough to entice without being intimidating, flushed dark and leaking a tiny drop of precome from the slit. The worst of the burns on his torso hadn't come down this far, and the damage to his legs had been mid-thigh and lower, so there was only light scarring in the area and nothing on his cock.

Curling her hand around the shaft, Angela stroked him slowly. Genji groaned as his cock twitched in her hand, "Sensitive?" she asked. Shifting her grip, she scratched her nails lightly along the length, and he shuddered in response.

"You've always been able to undo me," he replied, cupping her breasts in his palms, fingers kneading at the soft flesh. Without the bra and sweater in the way, the contrast of his metal and flesh hands was much more marked. Angela shivered, then gasped when he pinched her nipples and rolled them between his fingers. "I've dreamed of doing this for so long, I can't believe it's finally real."

"I want to ride you," she said, breathless at the thought of it. He was so strong and beautiful, a living embodiment of strength of will, and she wanted to truly claim him as hers. "Like this. With your hands on me, and able to see you."

Genji looked startled, then intrigued. "Like a valkyrie riding your steed?" he teased, sliding his hands down over her sides. When he reached her ass he squeezed, then lifted to position her over him better, supporting her weight with casual ease that made her ache with need.

"Something like that," she agreed, and used her grip to line his cock up with her opening. He let her go, and she sank onto him slowly, moaning as the broad head stretched her entrance.

"So tight," he murmured, kneading at her ass. "So hot and wet. Fuck, angel, you are amazing."

Angela was discovering that she truly loved it when he called her 'angel'. Though it was only one letter away from Angela, the emphasis he put on it made the word so much more than a simple nickname. He _meant_ it, in an awed sense, and it made her feel treasured.

She was also discovering that she loved making him swear, because it meant he was losing control and forgetting to be sweet and romantic. Though she adored him for trying so hard, it was the curses wrenched out of him against his will that told her she was truly getting to him.

Catching his hands, she drew them back up to her breasts in silent demand. He grinned as he obeyed, then surprised her by sitting up away from the pillows and curling forward to fasten his mouth onto her nipple. She could feel his abs ripple with the effort, and it made his cock shift inside her, rubbing in the most delicious way.

Tipping her head back, Angela braced her hands on his shoulders and lifted herself again, then slammed back down to spear the full length of him deep inside her. They both moaned, and she shivered as she did it again, and again. The faster she went, the better it felt, and she sped up until she was all but bouncing on him. 

He curved his right arm around her waist, supporting her and letting her lean back even farther, changing the angle so the head of his cock was rubbing over her g-spot. Angela cried out, then screamed again when he started flicking his tongue against her nipple in time with the movement of his cock inside her. 

She lost her rhythm, faltering against him despite her frantic efforts to keep the head of his cock rubbing against the sweet spot inside her. With a growl, Genji surged up and pushed her over, somehow twisting so she ended up on her back with him on his knees, her legs wrapped around his waist. 

He got both hands on her hips and held her up at an angle as he thrust into her, hard and fast. He couldn't get leverage with his mouth still on her breast, so he straightened to kiss her instead. It was hot and sloppy, both of them gasping into it, and it was the most perfect thing Angela had ever experienced.

Orgasm spilled through her, not just one hard peak but a series of little ones that increased in intensity, her body clenching frantically around his cock with each rising spike of pleasure. Genji cried out hoarsely, but kept going, driving his cock into her in a steady, pounding rhythm that refused to let her come back down. Angela writhed against him, overwhelmed, tears of pure pleasure sliding over her cheeks.

Finally his pace broke as he came, thrusting into her one last time and staying there. She could feel the way his cock throbbed inside her, his whole body shuddering with the force of his release. When it subsided he lowered her hips back to the mattress, disengaging and shifting to lie on his side next to her, rather than on top of her. 

Angela curled up against him, head on his left shoulder and hand on his chest so she could feel his beating heart. He pressed his lips to her temple, left arm curved around her shoulders and hand resting on her side, stroking in small, slow motions like petting a cat. 

His chest heaved as he panted, heart beating too fast even given the exertion, but he showed no signs of distress over his condition. Angela firmly ordered herself to set aside her concern. Genji surely knew his own limitations, and he was right that barring a catastrophic emergency, she _must not_ act in any way as a doctor to him. Not if they wanted this to work.

And god, she wanted this to work so badly. If he was ripped away from her now that she'd had a taste of how good it could be, she thought she might break down entirely.

They lay there for long moments, catching their breath and enjoying the feel of each other, uncaring that they were facing the wrong way on the bed. The metal parts of his body were hard and uncomfortable to lie against, but the warmth of his flesh and the sweetness of the way he held her more than made up for it. 

"Ai shite'ru," he murmured, squeezing her extra close. Angela didn't know any Japanese, but his tone said it all. It didn't matter what language was used; when the words were heartfelt, 'I love you' was always understandable.

"Ich liebe dich," she replied in kind, the words she'd always wanted to say rolling off her tongue with the sweet taste of honey.

Genji smiled, lips curving against her forehead. "Du bist mein Ein und Alles."

Astonished, Angela tilted her head back to look at him. His German accent was even worse than his English, but the words were understandable. "Since when do you speak German?"

"I have been learning it for years," he confessed, still in that language, suddenly shy. "The Shambali programmed themselves with every major language, so my master Zenyatta helped me practice. I wanted to be able to speak to you in your mother tongue."

It was by far the sweetest, most loving thing anyone had ever done for her. The ink painting was stunning and spoke volumes about how he viewed her, but learning a language took years of dedication and practice. He hadn't even known for certain she would ever welcome him back.

Biting her lip, Angela hid her face against his shoulder again, hugging him tight. She'd have to find a Japanese language class of some kind, perhaps online, and return the favour. It meant more than she could ever express to hear him confess his love in exactly the words she'd dreamed of hearing as a young girl. She wanted to do the same for him.

"I shtayru," she said, awkwardly trying to copy what he'd said to her. His chuckle rumbled beneath her ear, and she poked him in the ribs. "Hush. You've no room to point fingers, your accent is terrible. I'll bet that my Japanese will end up better than your German."

"Undoubtedly. You are good at everything you put your mind to." He was smiling again, making fun of her even as he meant the compliment sincerely.

"Are you staying?" It was her turn to grow shy, not certain she had the right to demand that he give up whatever life he'd built for himself in order to follow her around from refugee camp to field hospital and back again. But Angela _couldn't_ turn her back on the patients who needed her.

"Unless you want me to leave, I have every intention of becoming your full time personal bodyguard," he replied, and stroked her side and back again. "I'm sure you'll find some way to put me to work, too - but just so we’re clear, you’re not my boss, either.”

He was teasing, but she nodded solemnly. “No. We are equals, and partners. Always.” Never again would she allow her position to come between them. 

“Ai shite'ru, Liebling,” Genji said, fervent. “I'm yours forever."

Smiling, Angela settled against him, finally accepting that this was real. 'Forever' sounded like it might almost be long enough to satisfy her.


End file.
